Skylark
by Shai Nevermore
Summary: Skyla Connelly never really thought beyond the next track meet, the next audition...basically, she took things as they came. It never crossed her mind that she might find herself in the middle of a battle...or that she would be forced to marry her rescuer
1. Chapter 1

I stood up and brushed sand from my legs, grimacing—as always, there was sand in my shoes and in my shorts as well. Not a pleasant sensation, let me assure you. I hopped out of the pit carefully, trying not to let any more sand in my shoes, and made my way over to my coach, who was with the official. She turned to me with a smile.

"Seventeen feet, five inches," she told me. "Nice job, Sky."

I forgot the sand in my shorts instantly. "Are you serious?" I demanded. If—_if—_she were serious, it would mean that I'd broken my record by a good seven inches.

Ms. Sanders laughed. "Yes, you monkey. Although you could have done even better if you'd landed on your feet instead of your butt. Even if Abbi doesn't get an amazing score, there's no way anyone can touch you guys. Provided you do decently in the pole vault, of course."

With a grin, I turned and headed over to the pole vault pit where Abbi was taking her run-through. From what I'd seen before, there was only one girl who could give Abbi any trouble but her partner sucked. Of course, I wasn't exactly the best pole vaulter that ever lived, either. The best long jumper, maybe...well, no, I'm just kidding. But it's hard to be humble when you've just flown seventeen feet and five inches.

Let me back up a little bit. My name is Skyla Conelly and I'm a junior at Carver Academy. My best friend (who also happened to be my cousin), Abigail Fairfax, and I were involved in all sorts of sports but track and field (just field, really—we despise running) was our life. We always did everything together. In fact, when people referred to us, they didn't even bother using our names separately. Somewhere around fifth grade we had become known as Skabbi. Incredibly odd, I know, but the name stuck.

On this day, this brutally hot, muggy, humid, nasty day that I was just telling you about, Abbi and I were at the county relays and we were kicking ass. We'd been a team ever since our freshman year and we were unbeatable in the high jump (that's our best event). However, I'm much better at the long jump and triple jump than Abbi is and she routinely kicks my butt at pole vaulting. We both have to do well in order to win.

I waited for Abbi to finish and tried not to fidget too much. What can I say? Sitting still when you've got sand in your shorts—obnoxiously short, clinging, tight shorts, I might add—is no mean feat. Plus, said shorts were giving me a wedgie.

Abbi finished and strolled over, scratching the back of her neck. "You look like you need to go to the loo," she commented, her light English accent barely noticeable. She'd come from a little town outside of Oxford to live with us after her parents died when we were eight.

"I've got sand in my shorts," I said. "But guess what? I just broke my PR by seven inches!"

Abbi groaned. "So that means I have to jump how far?"

"We'll be fine," I assured her. "As long as you don't do horribly."

"That's encouraging," she grumbled, rolling sea-green eyes and flicking a wisp of fine white blond hair out of her face. She's very slim, very pale and almost fragile, my cousin. But she's beautiful in that annoying, glamorous, ice-queen sort of way. She's the type of person that could walk through a mudslide and come out with hair and make up spotless. Me, I'm the type who's hair and make up gets messed up just walking to class. But I'm not bitter or anything, really. I swear.

"Oh, come on," I scoffed, poking her arm. "You're not that bad at the long jump."

"You should take your run-through now," she told me, glancing back at the pit.

"Not just yet," I said uncomfortably. "I actually _do_ need to go to the bathroom."

"There is no bathroom."

"_What_?"

"I said, 'there is no bathroom'," Abbi said impatiently. "Honestly, Sky--"

"I heard what you said," I replied irritably. "But I really have to go."

"We could go in the woods," she suggested, even though she knew how much I hated doing that. Actually, that's probably _why_ she suggested it.

I made a face. I really, really had to pee and I was going to go crazy if I didn't get the freaking sand out of my shorts.

"Oh, fine," I said grumpily. "Come on, I have tissues in my backpack."

"Wimp."

"What was that?"

"Why, nothing."

"I thought so."

"Hey! Skabbi, where are you going?" Ms. Sanders called after us.

"To pee," I called back, not particularly caring who heard.

We hopped the fence and made our way through the woods until the track was out of sight. Even then, I kept going.

"Sky, no one can see here."

"I'm paranoid."

"You most certainly are," Abbi replied with a sniff.

After a few minutes of walking, I found a likely looking place surrounded by boulders. Abbi shook her head and turned to walk back out.

"Make sure no one comes in here," I warned her.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

I finished my business and came out of the circle of stones to find Abbi staring around with a very suspicious, very worried look on her face.

"You know, you don't have to take guard duty _quite_ that seriously," I told her.

"I'm not," she snapped.

"Whoa," I said, taken aback. "What's wrong?"

"Look around," she replied. "These aren't the same woods."

"What do you mean?" I asked with a frown. "Of course they're the same—oh. They aren't, are they?"

She was right. These woods were darker and the trees were much bigger and almost menacing. I noticed that the day was considerably cooler as well. In fact, it was downright chilly. This didn't make any sense.

"Should we try going into the stone circle again?" I suggested.

Abbi shook her head. "Look behind you."

I did as she suggested and felt my jaw drop open. The stone circle was gone.

"Well, that's not good."

Abbi slanted me a glance. "To say the least."

"So...what should we do?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted, looking worried. Abbi hates not knowing what to do. Almost as much as I hate peeing in the woods.

"Let's try walking back toward the track," I said tentatively, knowing how lame it sounded. Abbi scowled and looked at me like I was crazy. "Well, it's not as if we have anything better to do," I said defensively.

Abbi considered, then sighed. "I guess you're right."

"So...we walk."

"We walk," my cousin agreed.

A few minutes passed.

"I suppose we should start walking, shouldn't we?" Abbi said with a nervous giggle.

"I guess so," I replied, smiling shakily.

So we walked. And walked. And just for a little change of pace, we walked some more. After a while, I began to get thirsty. Luckily, I remembered that I had my water bottle in my bag. _Un_luckily, it was empty.

"Damn," I muttered.

"What's wrong? Besides the obvious," Abbi added as an after thought.

"My water bottle's empty," I said with a sigh.

Suddenly Abbi stopped and smacked her head. "Sky, is your cell phone in your bag?"

"Oh, duh!" I quickly reached into my backpack and pulled out my phone. When I flipped it open, however, my face fell. "No signal."

"Rats," Abbi said, sitting down. "This sucks."

"Sucks big sweaty monkey balls," I agreed.

"That's disgusting," Abbi said, squinching her eyes closed.

"But appropriate," I said with a shrug. Settling myself beside her, I glanced at the sky. "It's getting dark."

"And cold," Abbi replied, hugging herself.

"D'you think we should stop?" I asked uncertainly.

"Yeah...I suppose so," she said. "Let's have a look at what you have in your bag before it gets too dark to see."

I opened my bag and started taking things out one by one. "Okay...warm-ups, flute, piccolo, chemistry book, notebook, toothbrush--"

"Why do you have a toothbrush?" Abbi asked curiously.

"Didn't have time this morning," I answered, and continued my inventory. "Calculator, pens, pencil, stupid cell phone that doesn't work...ooh, look, I didn't eat all of my lunch today."

"What's left?" Abbi asked eagerly.

"A pear, half a sandwich, and a brownie," I said, laying out our little feast. We split everything and then sat there, not sure what to do. Suddenly something fell out of my bag with a small clink. I picked it up and then grinned excitedly.

"What is that?" Abbi demanded, snatching it out of my hand. "Skyla Connelly, _why_ do you have a lighter in your backpack?"

I could feel myself blushing. "I stole it from Danny so he wouldn't be able to smoke."

Abbi looked blankly at me for a moment, then grinned. "I knew it! You _do_ have a crush on him!"

"I do not," I retorted indignantly. "I just think it's disgusting that he smokes. No one should, _least_ of all an athlete. Especially the best athlete in the school."

Abbi smirked knowingly. "Yeah, alright, you don't have a crush on 'the best athlete in the school'."

"Damn you," I muttered. "Let's just make a fire, okay?"

"Alright," Abbi agreed, still smirking, and helped me gather fire wood.

"I don't have a crush on him, you know."

"I know."

"He's just a good athlete, that's all."

"That's true."

"It's not as if he'd ever look at me, anyway."

"Very true."

I stopped and glared at her. "You're supposed to disagree. To that part at least."

"Danny goes for blond and ditzy," Abbi retorted. "And anyway, he's dating a freshman. A cheerleader, I think."

"That won't last," I muttered mutinously. "And I'm blond.

"You're not ditzy," Abbie pointed out. "Moronic at times, but not ditzy. And your hair has red highlights."

"Thanks," I said sardonically, and dumped my load of firewood inside the small circle of rocks. "D'you think it'll work?"

"I don't know," Abbi said. "Here, give me the lighter."

I handed it over and snickered as she tried to get it to work. When it finally lit, she held it under a branch and waited for it to light. It didn't.

"Um, Abbi?"

"What?"

"The woods all wet."

"No, it's not..." she felt it again. "Bloody hell."

"I agree wholeheartedly," I said with a sigh. I hadn't even noticed while we were discussing my lack of a crush on Danny.

"So what do we do now?" She demanded, glaring at the offending pile of wood.

"Um, sleep?" I yawned, and shivered.

I tossed my warm up pants to Abbi and pulled on the top. Without speaking, we lay down next to each other and closed our eyes. After about an hour I rolled onto my back with a sigh.

"Abbi, you awake?" I whispered.

"Yeah."

I hesitated and then asked the question we had been avoiding all day. "Where are we?"

"I've no idea."

"But--"

Abbi sat up and looked down at me. "Look, I don't know. There's no way we _can_ know. Nothing makes sense anymore." I opened my mouth again. Something was moving around in the forest. "And, before you ask, I _don't_ know what to do."

"I was not going to ask what to do, Miss Priss," I snapped. "Something's out there."

Abbi blinked. "What?"

"Something," I whispered slowly. "Is moving around nearby. Listen."

"Should we run?" she whispered back.

"Not yet," I replied softly. "We don't know what it is. It might not even know we're here."

We waited in tense silence for a few minutes as the sounds came closer. It was coming from the same direction we had come from. I picked up my backpack and carefully pulled it on. Soon I could make out a shape in the trees. It seemed to be shaped like a human, but something told me it wasn't human at all.

Suddenly it stopped and I could tell it had noticed us. We stood stock still, staring at each other for a couple of seconds, and then it moved. Instantly Abbi and I turned and fled. Abbi was way ahead of me because the backpack was slowing me down. Without stopping, I swung it off my back. Looking over my shoulder, I chucked it as hard as I could at the—thing—that was following us. I heard a satisfying thump and an inhuman squeal as I sprinted ahead, ignoring the branches and twigs slapping my face and thighs.

Within seconds I overtook Abbi and plunged ahead. She would catch me soon enough. What I didn't realize, however, was that the monster had recovered and was right on our tail. At Abbi's cry of fear and pain, I skidded to a stop and spun around to see the monster crouching over her with a cruel looking knife.

"No!" I cried, and moved forward.

The thing bared nasty looking teeth at me and glared out of sickly yellow eyes. With an awful laugh, it brought the knife down and silenced Abbi's cries. I felt like I'd been kicked in the gut. I fell against the tree and clung there, paralyzed, and watched in horrified fascination as the thing proceeded to rip my cousin apart with its bare hands and eat her—_eat her. _When it was finished, it looked up and smiled, blood running freely down it's chin. I could see the gleam of it in the moonlight. With a moan of fear, I pushed myself off the tree and ran faster than I ever had in my life.

I came to a fallen log and hurtled over it effortlessly. Soon after, a stream came into view. Later, I would think about it and realize that it was well over seventeen feet, but right then I didn't even notice. Without breaking my stride, I flew over the stream and slid a few feet in the muck and shallow water on the other side. Frantically I scrambled to my feet and kept running until suddenly I was out of the woods and in the middle of a battle.

All around me there were more of the hideous creatures and horses and fire and swords clashing and arrows flying and people and monsters screaming. Ducking low, I narrowly missed having my head kicked off by a rearing horse. I threw myself sideways and screamed as one of the monsters knocked me down and started tearing at my clothes. Instinctively I clawed at his eyes. It grunted and jerked back briefly, but only to deal me a vicious backhanded blow to face. The force of it stunned me; I almost didn't notice that the monster suddenly didn't have a head.

I found myself being hauled into a saddle by a very rough, very strong hand. Too frightened and bewildered to do anything else, I clung to my rescuer's armor as he continued hacking and chopping at the vile, wrinkled creatures and was intensely grateful for his strong arm around my waist. The horse reared, plunged sideways, wheeled around—it was like some hellish circus ride.

When it was finally over, I realized that tears were streaming down my face and I was shaking uncontrollably. We rode a little ways off, away from the carnage, and stopped. The man dismounted and caught me as I slid bonelessly off the horse. He sat me down and asked me something in a strange language. I shook my head and tried to speak but no sound came out. He repeated himself, sounding cross.

"I—I don't understand," I finally managed. "I'm sorry."

"Forgive me," he said softly. "I mistook you for a Rohirrim."

"A—a what?"

He frowned at me. "A Rohirrim, lady. A child of Rohan."

I shook my head. "I don't understand. Where am I?"

"In Rohan," he said impatiently. "How is it you came from Fangorn Forest?"

"But—I came from Willow Brook—in Connecticut..."

"Where?"

My lip began to tremble as I noticed the crowd of rough looking soldiers watching curiously. "I don't know how I got here—my cousin and I were at a track meet and we went into the woods to go to the bathroom and when we came out of the stone circle we were in a weird forest and it was cold and the stone circle was gone and this thing attacked us and—and it ate her—it _ate _her--"

The man seemed to realize that I was on the verge of hysterics because he laid a calming hand on my shoulder and snapped out a few orders in his strange tongue. Instantly the soldiers disappeared. My knight in not-very-shining armor lit a fire and draped a blanket around my shoulders. I huddled there and stared into the fire as he removed his armor and sat down next to me to clean his sword. All I could see was my cousin's mutilated body and the disgusting thing crouching over her with her blood running from its mouth.

"Have you a name, lady?"

The question startled me out of my morbid thoughts. In the firelight I could finally see who my rescuer was. And despite everything, I distinctly heard a tiny voice in my head say, _screw Danny_. He had shaggy, wild blond hair, strong—good looking—features and a stubborn jaw partially obscured by a trimmed beard. Everything about him seemed to radiate strength. I realized that my mouth was hanging open and quickly shut it.

"Skyla," I said softly. "Skyla Connelly."

"A strange name," he said with a frown.

"What of you?" I retorted. "Do _you_ have a name or shall I call you Galahad?"

He glanced up at me, clearly confused. "I am Eomer, son of Eomund, Third Marshall of the Riddermark."

"Oh." Well, that certainly sounded important. "Nice to meet you."

Eomer, son of Eomund's mouth twitched. "It is 'nice to meet you' also, Skyla Connelly."

"Oh...you can call me Sky, if you want," I muttered. "Everyone else does."

"It would be my pleasure, Lady Sky," he replied with a smile. "Your name suits you."

I smiled tentatively back. "Abbi always says--" With a twist of pain, I remembered that Abbi was no longer able to say anything. "Abbi always said that my mother must have named me for my eyes."

"I am sorry for the loss of your kin," Eomer said gently. "It is never easy. In the morning, we can set about finding someone to take you home so you may share your grief with your family. Where is Willow Brook? In Gondor?"

Biting my lip, I replied, "Connecticut. I—I don't think going home is possible. Unless you know where the stone circle is. We came through one to this—this world. When we got here, it was gone."

"You weave me a tale, lady," Eomer said with a frown.

"Why would I lie?" I demanded, my voice shaking. "Given recent events, don't you think I'd be happy to go home? A few hours ago, my cousin and I were about to win the county relays. Now she's dead and I'm completely alone in a strange place were there are monsters and knights in grubby armor and it's freaking freezing!"

After I finished ranting, I scowled at the fire and pulled the blanket tightly around myself. Eomer seemed taken aback by my outburst, to say the least. But he recovered quickly.

"What did you say you were about to win?"

"A big track meet," I said grumpily.

"Track meet?"

I sighed and rubbed my face. "It's a sport. A competition."

"A tournament?"

"Something like that, yeah," I said. "There are several races—some for speed and some for endurance—and jumping events and throwing events."

"Jumping—on horses?" Maybe he was asking merely to distract me, but he also seemed genuinely interested.

"No—though we have that, too, at my school—I mean the high jump and long jump and the pole vault. Oh, and hurtles and the triple jump."

"I don't understand," Eomer said, brow furrowed.

I was warming up to the subject and didn't pay attention as several soldiers sat around the fire. "For the high jump, you need to jump over a bar and--"

"How high?" one of the soldiers interjected curiously.

"That depends," I said with a small smile, "on how good you are."

"How high can _you_ jump?" another asked as they all laughed.

I rose to my incredibly impressive height of five feet, five inches (okay, fine—four and half inches). "I can clear my own height by more than an inch on a good day. A really good day."

"Impossible," a grisled old soldier said flatly.

"I can show you, if you like," I snapped, then added ruefully, "although today is definitely not a good day."

The men laughed again and I felt a little better.

"When you are better, you can show us," Eomer said with a grin. "But tell us more...what of the others?"

"The long jump is very simple—you run and jump as far as you can and land in a pit of sand."

"What is the purpose of all this?" the first soldier asked scornfully.

"To strengthen the body," I replied with a shrug. "And...it saved my life tonight. It would have taken me ages to get across the stream if I hadn't jumped over it."

"These are strange times," the old soldier muttered.

"Yeah," I agreed with a yawn, and suddenly realized how exhausted I was. "You killed all the monsters, right?"

Eomer laughed softly. "Yes, all the orcs are slain. Sleep, Lady Sky. You needn't fear any longer."

I hesitated and then curled up with my back to the fire. "Thank you."

I could hear the smile in his voice as Eomer quietly replied, "Sleep well, small one."

I smiled and fell asleep.

A/N: please, please, please review...pretty please? Not that I'm desperate or anything, I swear...seriously, though. reviews, good or bad are appreciated. And the story's basically finished, so I can update as soon as I have reviews.


	2. Chapter 2

YAY! I got two reviews! (happy dance)

Blacksand: as requested, I added a bit more emotion than there was originally. Your advice is appreciated because I'd been wondering about that myself.

I awoke in the middle of the night in a panic. I was cold and I didn't know where I was and all I knew was that several sleeping—male—bodies were near mine. I lay there for a few moments, breathing shallowly, while everything came rushing back. This didn't really improve my mood, but at least I knew that I was, at the moment, safe. I shivered and scooted closer to the dying embers, trying to keep my teeth from chattering. Finally, I gave up on sleep and sat up, rubbing my arms.

I stared into the embers and felt a tear slide down my cheek. The full weight of all that had happened chose that moment to crash down on my head. Abbi was dead and I was completely alone in a strange, strange land with no hope of going home. What would happen to me? I knew I was safe with Eomer and his men, but I seriously doubted they would just let me tag along with them for the rest of my days. And Abbi...Oh, God, Abbi.

Abbi had been closer than a sister to me. And she was gone. Eaten, no less. I shivered, remembering all too vividly the wicked curve of the blade and the glimmer of moonlight on the blood running down the monster's chin. Why did she have to die? Why not me? Because, a traitorous little voice in my head hissed. You ran ahead. You were faster. With a choked sob, I buried my face in my hands and tried not to wake anyone up as I cried.

I was unsuccessful. Eomer sat up, blinking sleepily, and asked, "Lady Sky, are you crying?"

"No," I said gruffly, hastily wiping away tears. "I was just trying to get warm."

"I must say you're garments are not...suitable."

"It was much warmer where I came from," I replied listlessly.

"In the morning I will give you my spare set of clothes," he said quietly. "They will likely be too big, but they are warm and will keep my men's eyes off of your legs, at any rate."

I managed a small, if wet, smile. "Thank you."

"For now, use my cloak." Eomer tossed me said cloak and I wrapped it around my legs and then wrapped the blanket around myself again. "When we reach Meduseld, I'm sure my sister can find you something to wear."

"Meduseld?"

"My uncle's hall," he explained.

"Thank you," I whispered. His kindness and generosity nearly undid me. "I—I don't know how I'll ever repay you, but I will try. I'll leave as soon as I'm able and—find something to do."

"Don't be silly," he said tartly. "You will remain at Meduseld as our guest. Eowyn has been far too long without female company, anyway."

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. "Would you treat any peasant as well as you have treated me?"

"You, lady, for all your strangeness, are no peasant," he said firmly. "That much is apparent."

I rubbed my face, avoiding the bruise left by the orc—fork, pork, dork, whatever the hell it was called—and dried blood flaked off. For a moment I thought I might vomit, but it passed as quickly as it came. My hair and scalp felt disgusting and I was beginning to itch from dried sweat, blood, and mud.

"How long does it take to get to Meduseld?" I asked wearily.

"A day or two, perhaps," Eomer said with a shrug. "Riding double may slow us down."

"You don't have any spare horses?" I asked, blushing. Riding with Eomer might prove—distracting.

"Well, yes, but--" I noted with no little surprise that the tall warrior was blushing. "Why? Can you ride?"

"I think I can manage," I said with a smile. Shyly, I asked. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-four," he replied, startled. "And you?"

"Seventeen," I told him. Seven years older. Damn.

Eomer grinned. "Only a few years younger than my sister. I think your coming will prove to be a blessing. Eowyn has no true friends, you see, because all the girls are too concerned with her rank."

"And what rank is that?" I asked idly.

"The king's niece."

"Oh."

"You do not sound very impressed," Eomer remarked.

"Should I be?"

Eomer laughed. "Perhaps. But I find it somewhat refreshing. Are you kin to royalty, that it matters not to you?"

"No," I said, shifting my weight. "There are no kings where I come from. At least, no kings with political power."

"How can that be?" Eomer was clearly shocked.

"In my country, the people choose their leader every four years. That's how most of the world does it, now. We used to have kings, but the royal families that still exist have no power." I yawned. "You ask a lot of questions."

"I am sorry," he told me, looking sincerely contrite. "I did not mean to make you think of--"

"Oh—no, it's alright," I assured him. "It makes me feel better, actually."

Eomer grinned and laughed softly. "Do you know how long it has been since someone besides my kin has interrupted me?"

"Sorry," I muttered. "I have to get used to this royalty thing."

"No, don't. Like I said, it's refreshing." Eomer stirred the coals and then lay down.

"You would do well to sleep, lady. We ride at first light."

Yawning, I agreed and did as he suggested and did not wake until morning.

When I did wake, it was before dawn and Eomer was kneeling beside me, shaking my shoulder gently. I sat up and yawned, wincing as abused muscles protested. With a mumbled 'thank you', I took the clothes he offered and pulled them on over my track uniform. They were much too big, but they were warm.

"I would offer you boots," Eomer said apologetically, "but I think they would be more hindrance than help."

"Too true," I replied, rolling up my sleeves. Pushing my hair out of my face, I grimaced. My hair was a mess of knots, mud, blood, twigs, and leaves. "When do we leave?"

"Now," he replied as a soldier brought forth two horses. Eomer took one and motioned to the other. "That is Hasufel. His master was slain in the battle last night."

"I'm sorry," I murmured, moving to make Hasufel's acquaintance. He seemed like a friendly guy, but he was sad. "Poor guy...I'm not your master, but I'd like to be your friend for a while."

"He is a good horse," Eomer said as he mounted his own horse. "He will make sure you come to no harm."

"I'm sure he will," I replied, and patted Hasufel's neck. When I was mounted and and settled in the strange saddle, I discovered that my feet did not even touch the stirrups. I leaned over to adjust them and realized that I had absolutely no idea how to do it. "Um, Eomer? How—how do you adjust the stirrups? I've never seen a saddle like this before."

"Tholren, help the lady," Eomer said, and a young soldier rushed over to help.

"Thank you," I said, smiling gratefully at him.

Tholren blushed and nodded. "You—you'll ride beside me, lady. Because Eoroc did."

Hasufel's master, I supposed. I moved into place and waited uncertainly. What was everyone waiting for? Suddenly all the men faced a large mound and said something in their own language—a prayer, I suppose. The mound must have been a grave.

Then Eomer shouted something and the company surged forward. Taken by surprise, I clutched the saddle until I could regain my balance. Thankfully, Hasufel knew perfectly well what to do. I merely had to stay on his back.

After the initial shock, I relaxed and enjoyed the ride. And what a ride it was! I was caught up in a veritable sea of horses. They moved as a single entity—like a flock of birds. Or a herd of wild horses, I thought.

By the time the sun was high in the sky, I was so absorbed in this wonderful experience that I completely missed the small band of strangers. Although, oddly enough, I wasn't the only one. The company wheeled around at the sound of a man's voice and surrounded the strangers with spears held ready. Well, I just sort of sat there, but everyone else glared and looked fierce.

I stood up in my stirrups, trying to see the strangers, but there were too many in the way. I sat back down with a huff and wondered what was going on. While I twitched and fidgeted and looked around, everyone else sat stock-still, like cats ready to strike. It came as quite a shock when I heard Eomer's voice call out, "Hasufel! Arod!" and I suddenly found myself in motion. The ranks opened up as Hasufel and another riderless horse trotted up to Eomer, who nodded to me and indicated that I should dismount.

"Take these two to speed your path," he told the strangers. "This is Hasufel, and this Arod. May you have better fortune than their former masters."

One of the strangers, a rough but oddly regal sort of man, bowed his head deeply. "We thank you for this kindness, cousin. Rest assured we shall return them to you, if we can."

Eomer nodded and looked at me. "Lady Sky, it looks as if you will ride with me after all."

I smiled and took the hand he held down to me. Scant seconds after my hand touched his, _zip_—I was seated behind him.

"Wow," I muttered as the company took flight once again.

At first I tried not to hold on too tightly. I wanted—well, not to impress them, but I didn't want them to think I was some weak, fragile nothing. Soon enough, though, I was clinging shamelessly to Eomer in order to stay on the horse's back. It's extremely disconcerting, galloping across hilly, rock studded country with your butt on nothing but bunching, rolling muscle rather than safely in a saddle or at least on the horse's back, where you're supposed to sit.

At the end of that extremely long day, my muscles were none too happy with me. I made the mistake of dismounting without Eomer's help and bit my lip against the pain in my legs and back—and neck and arms and even my abs. _Everything_ hurt. Even so, I helped Eomer unsaddle his big stallion and then took the reins.

"Where are you going?" he asked in surprise.

"To walk out your horse," I replied tightly. And myself, I added silently.

"His name is Firefoot. And wouldn't you rather sit down?"

"No, my muscles will start cramping." He looked puzzled at that, but shrugged and turned to help set up camp.

To my delight, I came upon a stream and followed it downstream a bit. I nearly fainted with pleasure and relief to find a clear, rocky pool at the base of a small waterfall. Hurriedly I returned Firefoot to his master and asked for a blanket to take with me to the stream. Doubtless it would be cold when I got out.

"I will send Feawine with you," Eomer said, holding a hand up against my protests. "There may be orcs or other dangers about. I'm not even certain I should let you go at all."

"I'll end up tearing myself to bits if I don't clean myself soon," I said. "Bring this Feawine guy quickly. I think there might be things living in my hair by now."

"You do look rather in need of a bath," one soldier commented as he passed.

Trying to smother a grin, Eomer called for Feawine and I practically dragged him to the stream, where he took up a post facing away from me, fidgeting uncomfortably. I almost giggled. It must have been an intensely awkward situation for the poor man, who was obviously very shy.

Taking a deep breath, I undressed as quickly as I could and jumped into the water before I could chicken out. Jesus, but it was _cold_. Cursing colorfully and—rather inventively, I thought—I came up spluttering and gasping.

"Lady? Are—are you alright?"

"Yes," I managed, my teeth chattering. "It's just—really cold!"

"Aye, that it is," Feawine replied with a chuckle.

Muttering curses, I scrubbed myself all over and got the mud, blood, twigs, leaves, and the worst of the tangles out of my hair. It was the coldest bath I've ever had, but it was the best. I could barely climb out of the pool for the shivering, but I was clean. Wonderfully, gloriously clean. And it felt good.

It felt even better to dress and sit in front of the fire and finger comb and braid my hair while listening to the talk of the men. And then someone began to sing. It was beautiful and melancholy, full of longing. To me it was a longing for home. It brought tears to my eyes. I looked around and caught the eye of the singer. He was young—just barely older than myself, if that. His voice was a lovely tenor.

Despite past experiences with tenors, I was fairly certain that this one wasn't gay. Although, you never know...hell, if I were a gay guy—or a teenage girl, for that matter—I'd be in heaven. The company was chalk full of ruggedly handsome eye-candy (with a healthy splash of nasty teeth and pock-marked, greasy flesh, but hey, you can't have everything).

"Do you sing, my lady?" the boy asked when he was finished.

"A—a little," I stammered. I sang a lot, actually. I'd been in our school's chamber choir since my freshman year and had made the state choir the last two years in a row. But I was still awed by the tenor's performance and feeling rather worthless at the moment. (Now, before you start thinking that I'm a freak of nature, let me set you straight. Yes, I am. But I'm a _human_ freak of nature. I am involved in a great many things, but they take up all my time. I am, at best, a C student. Just so you know.)

"Well, sing something!" someone shouted.

"Come, lass, don't be bashful!"

What the hell am I doing? I moaned to myself, and sat straighter.

"_Oh, please, ne'er forget me,_

_tho waves now lie o'er me_

_I was once young and pretty,_

_And my spirit ran free._

_Though destiny tore me_

_From country and loved ones_

_And from the new land I_

_Was never to see..."_

The song has multitudinous verses, but I figured that a ballad was just the thing they wanted to hear, even if it was a heart wrenching story. (It's about an emigrant's daughter who dies on the crossing from Ireland.) It was just the thing for me, as well. It was one of my favorite songs, one of the many Irish tunes I learned from my grandmother and aunts. My dad's side is very, very Irish and they taught me how to speak and sing in Gaelic as well as English (and step-dance, but that's something I really, really don't want to get into). My grannie always said that you would never know I wasn't born and bred in Ireland when I sang.

By the time I finished, I felt a little better. It felt as if I'd let out some of my own grief and longing for home. I was surprised to see some of the men weeping openly. How long had they been away from their families? I wondered. Maybe that was why Eomer was so willing to have me along...it was an excuse to bring his men home.

"Excuse me?" A grizzled old warrior knelt before me and brushed my fingers with a kiss. He had spoken in his own language and I didn't understand a word of it.

"He said that you brought his own daughter back to life for him," Eomer translated softly. "If only for a few moments."

I didn't know what to say. I merely smiled at the old man and hoped that he could tell from my expression how moved I was. He nodded and smiled back and returned to his place across the fire. I noticed Eomer looking at me with an odd expression.

"What?"

"Lady Sky," he said carefully. "I have been thinking all this day on how wonderful it will be for my sister to have a companion, as if you were to stay with us for the rest of your days. Forgive me, I beg you. Although I cannot promise anything for the present, I swear to help you locate your stone circle and your home after the war."

"I can ask no more of you," I said gently. "I can only thank you for giving me somewhere to stay in the meantime."

"You are welcome to stay in Edoras for as long as you need to," Eomer assured her. "Sleep now; we can make it home by nightfall tomorrow."

I sighed. I only wished I could make it home.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day—evening, rather—the company rode through the gates of a walled city. And I use the term "city" loosely. It was a motley collection of buildings winding up and around a large hill. At the summit stood a proud wooden hall with carved statues of horses all over the place. Despite my fatigue and professed nonchalance concerning royalty, I was kind of nervous. Kings tend to have a funny outlook on other people's behavior.

As if reading my thoughts, Eomer cleared his throat. "Lady Sky...I do not mind how you speak to me, but my uncle...please, show him proper respect."

"Well...what does that entail? How should I address him?" I asked nervously.

"Call him 'my lord'," Eomer replied, as if surprised that I had to ask. "And don't speak unless he speaks to you first. And curtsy when I present you."

"Excuse me? Curtsy?" What is this, the freaking Middle Ages? Well, yeah, a little part of me replied. It is. Fuck. "I suppose now is not the time to point out that, even if I had a dress to curtsy with—which I don't—I don't know how to curtsy."

"You don't—never mind," Eomer said, shaking his head disgustedly. "My sister will teach you. And give you suitable clothes."

"You don't have to sound so condescending, you know," I said irritably. "I can't help the fact that this place is a thousand years behind my world."

Eomer stiffened. "Aye, well, you're here now, my lass, so you'd best accustom yourself to our primitive ways."

That should have shut me up in a hurry, but it didn't. Why? Because I am, as I believe Abbi mentioned earlier, slightly moronic at times. "I'd like to see you do half so well in my own world, laddy-buck," I snapped, sounding for all the world like my dad's older sister when she's in a snit. "Fuckin' ape."

Happily enough, Eomer didn't realize that I was using unsavory language, but he caught the tone sure enough.

"How dare you speak to me in such a manner?" he growled, glaring at me over his shoulder. "I am a Marshal of the Mark--"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I sneered. "Not so refreshing anymore, is that it?"

"The charm has worn off considerably," Eomer said, rubbing his forehead. "Ah, lass, I'm too tired to quarrel with you."

"Likewise," I grumbled.

As we rode through the gates, one or two people who happened to be around looked up and cheered. Soon, as if by magic, the street was lined with cheering, waving people. Eomer finally relaxed and I could tell he was grinning, even though I couldn't see his face.

"Hail, Eomer!" someone shouted, and others picked it up, cheering his name with gusto.

As we approached the hall on the top of the hill, I saw a tall, blond figure race out of a set of thick oak doors. I knew immediately that she was Eomer's sister. When we got closer, I could see that she had the same strong face and wild hair. I also noted that she was really, really tall. When Eomer jumped down to greet her, she could nearly look him in the eye. For all her size and strong features, she didn't look masculine at all—more like a goddess. She was the most striking woman I'd ever seen, radiating confidence and sheer personality. Once again I felt rather small and worthless.

I slid awkwardly off of Eomer's horse and looked around uncomfortably, not sure what I should do. Thankfully, someone came to my rescue. It was last night's singer. I smiled gratefully at him and asked where the stables were.

"Why?" he asked curiously.

"Well, to put away the horse..."

"Nay, _you'll _do no such thing," he said firmly. "My lord tends his own horse."

"Oh," I said, feeling small again now that I'd lost my temporary purpose.

"My name is Eamon," he said, bowing slightly.

"I'm--"

"Lady Skyla Connelly," he finished with a grin.

"Er—just Sky is fine," I muttered, and almost cringed when I heard Eomer call my name.

"They don't bite, you know," Eamon told me with a smile.

I turned slowly and tried not to look like a guilty puppy. Eomer and his sister were more than a little intimidating. They had a sort of proud, regal, 'grovel before us, worm ' air about them. Then Eomer smiled and held a hand out to me and the mood dissipated.

"Eowyn," he said, drawing me closer. "This is Lady Skyla Connelly."

"A strange name," Eowyn commented, looking me over. Unconsciously, I straightened under her gaze. "Tell me, where is your home?"

"Far away," I said softly. "I don't know how I came to be here and I don't know how to get back."

"She will stay with us in the meantime," Eomer told her firmly, then seemed rather unsure of himself. "Er—I thought you could provide her with something to wear, but now that I look at both of you..."

Eowyn laughed, making her seem less forbidding. "Never fear, I'm sure I have something tucked away. Come, you must be tired. You can bathe while I find something suitable."

"Thank you," I said gratefully. I didn't care if she gave me a burlap sack—as long as it was clean and warm.

I followed her into the hall and instantly felt better. It was warm and comfortable and...well, homey. I don't know how to explain it. I looked around and everything seemed right—almost familiar. Eowyn noticed me looking and smiled.

"I think you will like it here, Lady Skyla."

"Please, just call me Sky," I said. "Only my grandmother calls me Skyla and only when I'm in trouble."

Eowyn laughed. "Then you must call me merely Eowyn. I dislike titles."

"Of course," I said.

"Here are my rooms," she said, and ushered me in. She led me into an antechamber where a steaming tub of water awaited me. Briefly, I wondered how they knew to have it waiting, but the thought was quickly dismissed as I let out a cry of joy and relief.

"Give me your clothes," Eowyn ordered. "They must be filthy."

Now, ordinarily, I probably would have at least hesitated before stripping in front of a complete stranger, but I was too eager to get into that bath. I tore off the dirty, smelly garments and handed them to Eowyn, who was frowning at my track uniform.

"Those are strange undergarments," she remarked, "and odd slippers..."

"Oh, they're not undergarments," I explained. "This is my track uniform. Everyone in my...company wears this when we compete. And the shoes are specially made for these competitions. Please, be careful with them..."

"I will," Eowyn promised. "What kind of competitions? Contests of arms?"

"Oh, no...running, jumping, um...spear and disc throwing...that kind of thing," I replied, and swallowed. "My—my cousin and I competed in the jumping events together."

"Your cousin...is she dead?" Eowyn asked tentatively.

I nodded. "Just a few hours after we found ourselves in this place."

"I am sorry," she said softly. "My own cousin died recently. In battle."

I nodded again and stripped off the rest of my clothes and sank into the bath with a sigh of relief. Upon inspection, I found a dish of soap and what appeared to be some kind of shampoo. It was frothy and smelled like herbs, anyway, so I figured it wouldn't make my hair fall out or anything. After I finished, I soaked for awhile, trying to process what was happening. It hadn't really hit me before, but I realized then that I might be here for a very long while, if not forever. Hadn't Eomer said that there was a war going on? I might never see my dad or my grannie or my aunts and uncles ever again. I wondered how my dad would take losing both me and Abbi. Not well. He had already lost my mother when I was five. This would just kill him.

It was probably a good thing that Eowyn interrupted when she did. I was beginning to feel distinctly panicky. She had a bundle of clothes in her arms and a big fluffy towel draped over her shoulder. She smiled when she saw me.

"Feel better?"

"Much," I replied thankfully, and took the offered towel.

"You came just in time, you know," she told me. "I was going to give all my old gowns to Hammond's daughter, but I think you have more need of them."

"I can't believe you're only twenty," I muttered.

"Aye," she agreed ruefully. "People are often surprised at my age. Well, put this on. It should fit beautifully, but I can find something else if it doesn't."

I pulled on an under dress sort of thing (a shift, I think it's called) and then a forest green gown with celtic looking embroidery on the hem and on the belled sleeves. Eowyn did up the laces in the back and turned me around. After a moment's perusal, she nodded.

"You're exactly the same size I was when I was your age," she said, then reconsidered. "Well, maybe a year or two younger. But I have plenty of clothes that will fit you, and that's what matters. Now put on these stockings and slippers and I'll do something with your hair."

"What's the occasion?" I wondered.

"You need to be dressed as befits a lady when you go before my uncle," she said, and I saw a brief flash of uneasiness in her face.

"Is he very hard to please?" I asked nervously.

"He wasn't until his... adviser came," she explained. "We must give them nothing to object to."

"Speaking of which, you need to teach me how to curtsy."

Eowyn stared. "You...don't know how to curtsy? But you are clearly--"

"Not a peasant, I know," I said irritably. "Nobody curtsies where I come from."

"Strange," she murmured. "Comb your hair and then we'll see what we can do."

Curtsying turned out to be not that hard, actually. In fact, it was much more difficult to work out how to hold my stockings up with garters. I could see Eowyn's face twitching with the effort it took not to laugh herself silly. I tried to console myself with thoughts of how awkward she would feel in my world. Imagine trying to put in a tampon or put on a bra if you'd never even seen one before. Unfortunately, these thoughts only reminded me of what I had lost and didn't help much.

Finally, she led me to a mirror and laughed at my startled expression. She'd braided portions of my hair back and looped or twisted it or something so that it formed a windy sort of design at the back of my head. The rest of my hair fell in long, snaky waves to my elbows. It was definitely the coolest thing that had ever been done with my hair. (If left to my own devices, I'd simply braid the whole thing or throw it into a pony tail)

And let us not forget the dress. It showed off my figure (that is to say, it _showed_ my figure—what little I have, anyway) the way nothing I'd ever worn did, making me look slender and strong rather than skinny and wiry. Like a willow branch rather than a twig, if you want to get poetic about it. I mean, I'm on the better-looking side but northing special. I'd never cared much about clothes or hair and had never felt really beautiful (or at all beautiful) until then. And I did feel beautiful, even with a dark bruise covering one cheek.

"Wow," I breathed. "I don't feel quite so...worm-like anymore."

"There's nothing quite like a beautiful gown to boost a woman's confidence," Eowyn agreed with a smile. "And it does look lovely on you. Come, I'll escort you to my uncle."

I took a deep breath. "Here goes nothing."

"Pardon?"

"Never mind."

As we entered the hall, I got the feeling that something unexpected was happening. I don't know if it was the all-out brawl taking place in the middle of the room, the blazing white figure with a staff who appeared to be exorcising a cackling, moth-eaten figure on a throne, or simply the gob-smacked expression on Eowyn's face that did it, but there was a definite "dude, what the hell's going on?" vibe.

Suddenly there was a huge bang and a flash of light, temporarily blinding me. I shook my head slowly to clear my vision and then frowned. The old man on the throne seemed to be—changing. He seemed to be getting younger and stronger before my eyes. His hair turned from mossy gray to an only slightly frosted tawny mane and his shoulders straightened and broadened almost as if he had merely been slouching. But I could tell it was more than that. I glanced over at Eowyn and saw tears in her eyes. Before I could ask, she rushed over and knelt before the man (presumably her uncle), who took her face in his hands and kissed each cheek.

Feeling extremely awkward, I waited and tried not to fidget while Eomer and Eowyn greeted their uncle as if they hadn't seen him in years. Soon, however, things got interesting. The king turned his attention to a dark, slimy, pale man who was cowering on the floor. I couldn't hear what was being said, but I was too unsure of myself to move closer.

I watched with wide eyes as the king hauled the man up by the collar of his shirt and dragged him outside. Then, since everyone else did, I followed and peeked over a warrior's shoulder just in time to see the man spit at the king and rush off. This must be the adviser Eowyn had spoken of.

I was so transfixed by the nasty looking thing that I didn't notice the king coming up the stairs until he was right in front of me and looking at me with a rather disgruntled look on his face. I stared at him in shock for a moment and then dropped into a perfect curtsy, bowing my head as elegantly as I could and murmuring, "Greetings, my lord."

The king (what was his name, anyway?) tipped my chin up gently and asked, "What is your name, lass?"

"Skyla Connelly... my lord," I replied.

"A strange name." I—barely—resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I was getting really sick of hearing that.

"We found her with a company of orcs just outside Fangorn Forest," Eomer explained. "I offered her sanctuary here, Uncle. She has nowhere else to go."

"Hm." The king rubbed his chin contemplatively, looking me over. "Even more strange. She clearly is of noble blood. But from where, I wonder?"

That, too, I was getting sick of hearing. How the hell would they know, anyway?

"Skyla Connelly," the king said gravely, "you are welcome in Meduseld for as long as is necessary, but I warn you, your stay may not be as peaceful as you would like."

"T'will be better than what the orcs would give me, my lord," I replied, drawing a laugh from the lion-like man.

"Aye, lass, that it will," he agreed, and offered me his arm. Tentatively, I laid my arm over his and he grasped my fingers. "Come, my people, let us celebrate the return of our warriors and the arrival of friends. And then we shall prepare for war."

"Hail Theoden King!"

But I didn't miss the grim, almost disgusted expressions of the old man in white and his companions. I, too, was wondering why he was talking about celebrating first and preparing for war after, but I suppose his people had been through some hard times and needed a party before more hardship and pain. I was about ready for a party, myself. I glanced over and noticed the old man staring at me intently and looked away again quickly.

The king led me to a table at the head of the room and handed me over to a tall, blond, impossibly beautiful man. Upon closer inspection, I found that his ears were pointed. Well, fuck me, it's an elf, I thought bemusedly. Cool.

"I apologize, Lady Skyla, but I must speak with Gandalf and Aragorn," Theoden said courteously. "I am sure you will be quite alright with Legolas."

Legolas bowed and I curtsied in reply. I was pretty sure that's what I was supposed to do, anyway. I wasn't prepared for him to kiss my hand, however. I felt a shiver run up my spine and I found myself eying his flawless skin and clear blue eyes enviously.

"Lady Skyla, your seat," he said coolly, pulling out a chair for me.

I sat, trying not to look too nervous, and then jumped about a foot in the air when a very large—but very short—red headed (and bearded) man plunked himself down in the chair on my other side. A dwarf? What was next, the tooth fairy?

"Hello, there, lassie," the dwarf boomed. "You looked like you could use some rescuing from yon flower-blossom."

I smiled in relief, but replied, "I'm sure Legolas is a perfect gentleman."

"Och, aye," the dwarf scoffed. "So gentlemanly he'll bore you half to sleep."

"As opposed to scaring her away, Gimli?" Legolas said with a dry smile.

"Well, it looks like things will even out," I assured them.

Dinner turned out to be quite enjoyable. Gimli made things interesting and Legolas stepped in more than a few times to save me from an awkward moment. Halfway through dinner, however, I noticed him regarding me intently.

"Yes?" I inquired politely.

"You should know, Lady Skyla, that Theoden rarely does anything without a reason," he said without preamble. "He doesn't give charity. He is generous, but he always expects something in return."

"What are you saying?" I asked with a frown.

"I'm saying that you should think about what you are prepared to give in exchange for his hospitality," he replied cryptically, and would say nothing more about it.

His words disturbed me greatly. There was nothing I could give. I had come to his home with literally nothing more than the clothes on my back. Well, and Eomer's clothes, but I doubted he'd want _those_. I thought about it all through the rest of dinner, listening only half heartedly to Legolas and Gimli's banter. Suddenly my thoughts were broken by a noise—series of noises, rather. It sounded like drumming.

"Ah, the dancing is about to begin," Legolas said, leaning forward.

"Are you going to dance?" I asked curiously.

"I? No, I prefer elven dances...but this is interesting to watch."

I thought I would be watching as well, but Eowyn would have none of it. To my astonishment, I picked up the steps fairly quickly and immediately took back everything bad I'd ever said about learning to step-dance. It was eerily similar to these dances, only this was much more fun than dancing with my uncles and grumpy cousins who were also being forced to learn. I found myself paired with Eamon, Eomer, the dark haired stranger—Aragorn—and several other soldiers. Before long I was laughing and kicking up my heels with the best of them.

At the end, I followed Eowyn out of the hall and cast a puzzled glance back at the brooding, gloomy form of Theoden.

"Eowyn? Why does your uncle look so depressed? He suggested this in the first place."

Eowyn's bright smile faltered. "His son—my cousin—died while he was...unwell. He realized when he found that Theodred wasn't there to welcome him, but he wanted to put some joy back in his people's lives, regardless of his own pain."

"Oh," I said, cringing at the slight rebuke. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize..."

"It's alright," Eowyn told me, sounding contrite. "It still hurts, that's all."

"I know," I said softly, thinking of my own cousin. She would have gotten along with Legolas perfectly.

"Lady Skyla!" I turned to see the old man—Gandalf—striding toward me. I waited, puzzled, but felt my eyes widen when I saw what he had in his hands.

"My backpack!" I looked up at him in amazement. "How..."

"I came across it in the Fangorn," he explained. "Rarely do such things occur without a reason. When Eomer told me how you arrived in Middle Earth, I thought it might be worthwhile to show this to you."

"Worthwhile, indeed!" I cried, taking the bag gratefully. "Thank you so much, sir—I mean, my lord."

"Might I ask what is in it?" he asked curiously, his bushy eyebrows drawing together.

"Oh—yes, of course," I replied. I was practically itching to get my flute and piccolo out to make sure they were okay.

"Not here," he said, taking my arm. "Lady Eowyn, if you would escort us to the Council Chamber?"

Eowyn looked slightly startled, but acquiesced. I was kind of surprised, myself. Wouldn't they be talking about the war? The thought was quickly banished from my mind in my excitement, however. Once we were there, I barely waited for an introduction before setting my bag on the table and pulling out my flute. With a sigh of relief, I saw that it appeared to have survived being chucked at a monster very well. I put it together and saw the curiosity on Eomer's face. I could tell he was just itching to ask a dozen questions, just like the first night they found me.

"What is it?" he asked bluntly.

"It's a flute," I said with a broad smile.

"Tis unlike any flute I have ever seen," Legolas commented dubiously.

I resisted the urge to make a sarcastic comment and instead put my flute to my lips and played a little ditty, making sure that everything was in working order. When I stopped, I saw that everyone was staring at me. Had I done something wrong?

"What?" I asked nervously. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing," Theoden said, snapping out of it. "That was lovely. Where did you acquire such an instrument?"

"Um...My band director? I—I don't think you can find one anywhere in this world."

"Amazing," Eomer muttered. "It appears to be made of silver..."

"It is," I said with a smile. "And it has a gold crown and mouthpiece. The Music Den loaned it to us in hopes that we might buy one but then they just forgot about it and..." seeing that they were all staring at me, I muttered, "Never mind."

"What other wonders do you have in that bag?" Gandalf asked, as if he were waiting for something. "Show me."

"Okay..." I emptied my bag, showing my assorted pens, pencils, calculator, chemistry book, cell phone, piccolo (They asked me to play it, but I warned them that it would likely wake up everyone in the town and deafen those in the immediate vicinity), and notebooks...and tampons! My toothbrush! Sneakers! Luckily, they believed me when I told them that they didn't want to know what they (the tampons, I mean) were for.

"Tell me more about these," Gandalf said, picking up the calculator, cell phone, and chemistry book.

"Well, the calculator—the bigger boxy thing, there—it...counts for you," I explained awkwardly. I received blank stares. "Look—say you have twenty five people, but only ten loaves of bread. This can tell you quickly how much bread each person will get. Or add up large numbers or tell you how many loaves of bread it will take to feed a hundred people."

"Show me," Gandalf ordered.

I punched in the numbers with Gandalf looking over my shoulder and explained what each button did and what each number was (I guess they didn't have the same symbols for numbers in this wacky place). He was extremely excited, to say the least, but he held it in and bade me explain the cell phone.

"Oh—well, it's rather useless, to tell the truth," I said ruefully. "It's a communication device, but it's broken. Even if it weren't, it needs another like it to communicate with and I've only got the one."

"Like a palantir," Aragorn said, nodding.

"A what?" Now it was my turn to stare blankly.

"Nevermind," Gandalf said, waving his hand. "Tell me about this book."

"It's my chemistry book..." blank stares all around.

"What is chemistry?" Eomer asked with a frown.

"It's the study of matter and how it changes," I explained, looking around. No light bulbs. "Like...a candle burns because it reacts with something in the air and because something triggered the reaction."

"Something like a spark struck with flint and steel," Gandalf suggested.

"Exactly," I said with a smile. "When you rub your hands together, they get warm, don't they? When the flint rubs against steel, it creates heat as well—and the spark. Well, actually that's more physics than chemistry, but..." Suddenly, I had a lightbulb moment, but decided to keep it to myself for the time being. "Look, I'm really not good at chemistry at all...most of the stuff in here is pretty useless, anyway, but you're welcome to look, if you want."

Gandalf gave me a long, steady look. "I will, thank you, although I believe you will need to translate your runes for me. I have never seen their like."

"It would be a pleasure," I said, covering a yawn. It must have been well past midnight. "Sorry, it's been kind of a long day."

I gathered up my things and followed Eowyn through the halls, answering as many of her questions as I could and trying not to fall asleep on my feet. She opened a door not far from her own room and ushered me in.

"This was my mother's room when she was a girl," she said with a smile. "I think you'll like it."

"It's lovely," I replied, looking over the tapestries lit by candle light and the huge four-poster.

"I've put all my old things in this wardrobe, here," she said, crossing over to the large wooden structure and opening it up. "Formal gowns on the left, then everyday dresses, work dresses, riding skirts, nightgowns, cloaks...slippers and boots are all on the bottom. Those might be a bit tricky in terms of size, but they should do until we can have your own boots made for you...there are shirts and breeches in that chest, there...do you need anything else?"

"No...no, this is wonderful. Thank you." I stood awkwardly for a moment more and was shocked when Eowyn crossed the room to embrace me.

"I know this must be difficult for you, Sky," she said. "And I think you are doing wonderfully. Don't be afraid to ask for anything you need, alright? I want you to be happy here. We all do."

"Thanks," I whispered, a bit tearfully.

"Here, let me undo your laces and your hair." When she was done, she bade me goodnight and slipped quietly out the door. I pulled on a warm, comfy nightgown and sat down on the—my bed. It was too big, I thought dully. What do I need all that space for? I lay down and closed my eyes but found I couldn't sleep. The room, the bed, the smells and sounds...they were all too unfamiliar.

Sighing, I got out of bed and fumbled around for a cloak and grabbed one of the smaller blankets off the bed. There was one place in this god forsaken city that would be as familiar as I could get. After a couple of wrong turns, I made it outside and padded to the stables, cursing all the way. Of course I hadn't thought to put on shoes.

Carver Academy, in case I haven't already told you, is a boarding school. For years, whenever I got homesick, I would sneak down to the stables and sleep there. It reminded me of home and comforted me in a way letters never could. I hesitated before entering these stables, however, hoping that I wouldn't be attacked as a horse thief or anything. I was surprised, however, to see a torch flickering in a bracket on the wall. I tiptoed closer, wondering who (besides myself) was crazy enough to be out at this hour.

I found Eomer stroking and speaking softly to his magnificent chestnut stallion, Firefoot, who looked confused but not at all displeased with the attention. In fact, he looked so much like a sleepy toddler that I had to giggle. Eomer whipped around and then relaxed when he saw it was just little old me.

"Lady Sky, what in the world are you doing?"

"I—I couldn't sleep," I said, realizing how stupid it sounded.

"You weren't planning to sleep here, were you?" he asked incredulously, indicating my blanket.

"Er—well..." I sighed and closed my eyes. "Look, it's the only thing that's the same here as it is at home."

"Ah," he breathed. "I understand. In that case, there's a stall at the end that's always filled with hay. I believe it will do quite nicely."

"Oh." I blinked in surprise. "Well—thanks."

"I used to do the same thing when I was a boy," he said with a smile. "I still do, occasionally, but mostly I just talk to this fellow."

"He's a lovely animal," I ventured, coming closer. Firefoot stretched out his neck to sniff me and I stroked his nose gently.

"Aye, he is," Eomer said proudly. "He's descended from the Mearas."

"The who?"

"The Lords of Horses," he explained gravely. "There are precious few left. Gandalf rides one of the last, Shadowfax. I would introduce you, but I don't think he would appreciate being awoken at this hour."

"I think you're right," I yawned. "Where did you say that pile of hay was?"

"The last stall on the right," he said with a swift grin. "Sleep well, my lady."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: thanks for all the great reviews everyone!

lintered--chemistry's a bitch, innit?

The next morning, I woke just before dawn and high-tailed it back to my room. No doubt there would be an awkward moment or two if I were found asleep in the hay. With pale morning light creeping through the window, my room didn't seem nearly so large and intimidating.

I sat down in front of the mirror and combed my hair, picking out stray bits of hay and humming to myself. When I finished, I opened up the wardrobe and found a dress without laces in the back and pulled it on, jumping only slightly when the door opened to admit a young, plump maid with freckles and rosy cheeks. She looked just as startled.

"Oh--" she curtsied hurriedly "my lady, I thought you were still abed...I've brought you washing water."

"Thank you..." I waited expectantly for her name, but nothing was forthcoming. "What's your name?"

"Freda, my lady," she replied, curtsying again. She couldn't have been more than fourteen or fifteen. It was odd to think that she would be a freshman to my junior and yet she was treating me like an adult. "Beg pardon, my lady, but what are you doing up so early? No one will be awake for hours."

"Oh—I couldn't sleep," I said sheepishly. "This place is very...very new."

Freda nodded and smiled. "I couldn't sleep the night through for a full week when I first came here. Twill pass, my lady, never fear."

"Thank you," I said with a smile. As she turned to leave, I called, "Freda! Would you mind showing me around after I get cleaned up a bit?"

"Oh...of course, my lady," she replied.

"I'll only be a moment," I assured her, splashing water on my face and cleaning my teeth with my beloved toothbrush.

Freda proved to be quite nice, if a little shy, and very helpful. I was sorry when we met Gandalf and he ushered me away to work with the chemistry book. I remembered my light bulb from the night before and was glad that I could talk to him alone. He led me to a rather dusty but well-lit library that likely hadn't been used for some time and opened the chemistry book.

"There is something useful in this book," he stated. "Something you did not want to speak of in front of everyone."

"Yes," I agreed, and flipped through the book until I found what I was looking for. "There. Gunpowder."

"What do you say?"

"A powder that will explode and rain fire on everyone around it with a single spark," I explained. "If you're going to have a war, it might be more than a little helpful. But it's very powerful and very, very dangerous. You could blow apart a stone wall or kill dozens of people with the right amount. Now, I'm not sure if you can get all the ingredients, but it's worth a shot."

"You were right to come to me with this," Gandalf said after a moment, staring at me thoughtfully.

"What?" I asked nervously.

"Forgive me," he said, shaking himself a little. "You just remind me of someone, that's all, but I can't think who."

"Oh..." I said uncertainly.

"It's no matter," he said briskly. "Now, to work."

I spent the next few hours teaching Gandalf my "runes" as he called them and explaining various principles of chemistry. He was remarkably quick, grasping in a few minutes what had taken me ages and ages to learn. Time flew by, but I wasn't sorry when Freda came to fetch me. She looked nervous.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"The king wants you, lady," she blurted. "And he doesn't look happy. Lord Eomer is with him." She lowered her voice. "I heard them shouting at each other before. I heard your name."

"What could I have done?" I wondered, thinking frantically. "I haven't even been here a full day!"

"I don't know," Freda said, wringing her hands. Wordlessly, she opened a door and gestured for me to enter. As I passed, she whispered, "Good luck."

"Not happy" was an understatement. Both the king and his nephew looked ready to kill. When I entered, however, Theoden made a visible effort to calm down.

"Lady Sky," he said courteously. "I have a matter of some import to discuss with you."

"Am I in trouble?" I blurted, then blushed.

"Nay, lass," Theoden told me kindly. "Let me explain to you what is happening in the world. There is a dark and evil power far away in the East called Sauron who desires to control all of the West...all of the world. His minion, the wizard Saruman, does his bidding in these parts. It is Saruman that we must fight now. But even if we defeat Saruman, there is no guarantee that the war will be over. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I said, "but what has this to do with me?"

Theoden sighed heavily and Eomer's scowl deepened. "My son is dead and Eomer has taken Theodred's place as my heir. But there is a good chance that both Eomer and I will die."

I shot a glance at Eomer, who had closed his eyes as if to make the whole thing go away. I did _not_ like where this was going.

"Eomer cannot go into battle without a heir," Theoden softly. "I cannot endanger my House and my kingdom in such a way."

Oh, shite. Christ, I didn't have to ask what that had to do with me. Eomer was very carefully not looking at me.

"Why me?" I said clearly. "Why not a soldier's daughter or some other woman?"

"You are of noble blood," Theoden explained patiently.

"What in the world makes you people think that?" I demanded, to angry to balk at interrupting a king. "My father runs a stable and my mother was a librarian—there's nothing noble about me."

"There is," Theoden argued. "It is in your face, lady, in your eyes and in your movements. In any case, the only daughters of marriageable age in Edoras are already betrothed and I simply do not have time to...to import a bride for my nephew!"

"My lord," I said in a would-be calm voice, "I cannot. It is ludicrous. I'm not of marriageable age at all—I shouldn't even be thinking about marriage for another five or six years. I hardly know Eomer and he's seven years older than me! And," I said, shooting a look at Eomer, "he promised to help me go home after the war is over."

"Eomer," Theoden said, clearly annoyed, "is not yet his own master. He still has me to answer to."

"I refuse," I said coldly.

"Tell me, my Lady Skyla, where will you go if I do not allow you to stay?" Theoden asked dangerously. "And how will you get there if I do not permit you to use a horse from my stables? You are here at my sufferance, girl, and you would do well to remember it."

"What kind of king are you, that you have to resort to blackmail to get your nephew a wife?" I shouted furiously. "I am not a brood mare to be mounted by the stallion of your choice. I'll not be used as breeding stock, even by a king."

Theoden rose from his chair and glared at me. "I will do whatever it takes to secure Rohan's throne. If it means inconveniencing you for a time, then so be it."

"_Inconvenience_?" I shrieked. "Inconvenience? You call marriage and childbirth a fucking _inconvenience_?"

"Foolish girl!" he yelled. "Any woman would kill for such an honor and I am handing it to you!"

"And what have you to say to all this?" I demanded, turning on Eomer, who stood braced against the wall with his head bowed. Slowly he raised his head and looked at me.

"Believe me," he said dully. "I have no wish to wed. But I cannot risk civil war by failing to provide an heir to the throne."

"So I have no choice," I whispered. Louder, I said, "What you do is little more than rape, Theoden King."

"I will do what I must," Theoden said harshly.

"Aye," I said bitterly. "And how much time do I have before my life is ruined?"

Theoden sat back down and rubbed his beard tiredly. "I'm not without some compassion, lass. I can give you three weeks to prepare...and to become more familiar with your betrothed."

"And I will never go home," I stated softly.

"I'll strike a bargain with you," he told me. "When you bear a healthy male heir, you have my word that I will do everything in my power to help you find your way home, provided that the war is over and I am alive to help you."

I nodded grudgingly. It seemed that that was the most I would get. I very carefully avoided thinking about what it all meant—I mean, Christ, having a _baby_? I was seventeen, for fuck's sake. And that meant...with a pale face I looked at the man who, in three weeks, would take my virginity from me. And father a child? It was simply too much. Without another word I fled the room, tears streaming down my face.

How had this happened to me? My cousin was dead, I was being forced to marry and—_procreate—_with a complete stranger seven years older than me, and it looked like I wasn't going home for a very, very long time. If ever. For all my talk of going home, I didn't really believe that it was ever going to happen. I'd almost accepted that I was probably going to live out my life here—but marriage? To the king's nephew? That was a bit harder to accept.

I sped up as I heard footsteps behind me, but Eomer caught up quickly and caught my hand.

"Sky, wait--"

"Eomer, I really, really don't want to talk to you right now," I said through gritted teeth. I found myself staring somewhere over his shoulder, unable to look him in the eye.

Eomer sighed and grasped my shoulders. "Lass, we are both of us being thrown into this, but there is nothing to be done. We must make a marriage between the two of us, somehow, and I am willing to try. Please, Sky. I don't want to feel like a monster on my wedding day."

I forced myself to look him in the eye and saw sincere regret and...hope? Finally I sighed and looked down. "Alright. I'll try to make this work. But as soon as that kid shows up, I'm going home."

"We have a bargain," Eomer said with a relieved smile, and we shook on it.

_What the hell am I getting into..?_

_>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>. _

"Sky, where are you going?" Eowyn stood in the doorway, watching me worriedly.

"I'm just going running," I said, a tad bitterly. "I'm not trying to escape or anything."

I braided my hair and pulled on my warm up jacket over my freshly washed track uniform. It was still chilly out, but it seemed that spring was on its way. I'd be warm enough once I started running.

"For what it's worth, Eomer was furious when he found out," Eowyn said softly as I tied my shoes.

"Probably because he has to wed—and bed—a little girl," I muttered.

"Because he has no wish to force you or take your freedom from you," Eowyn retorted sharply. "If it were not for that, he would not be averse to the match."

"What?" That startled me. He was so much older than me...

"You are no little girl, Sky," Eowyn said firmly, then smiled. "And he thinks you are beautiful."

I snorted. "Twill make the wedding night easier, I'll wager—for him, at least."

"And you do not find him attractive?" Eowyn asked shrewdly.

Attractive? Hell yes, but... "Eowyn, I only just met him two days ago and now I'm being told that I must marry him. I—I never thought about getting married, but I always assumed I that I would marry a man that I loved and wanted to be with."

Eowyn placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and smiled. "He is easy to love, Sky. If you give him half a chance, I think you can be happy with him. I know that he will do everything in his power to make you happy."

"I hardly know him," I insisted.

"Well, then go to him!" Eowyn cried. "What are you sitting here alone for?"

I sighed and rubbed my face. "I will—but I need some time to myself now. I'll be back before dark."

Now, as much as I hate running, sometimes I just have to. It either helps me sort out my feelings or simply wipes my mind blissfully blank. I don't know how far I ran, but when I finally stopped, I realized that there was no way I was going to make it back before dark. I set off in the direction I came from at an even faster pace, hoping that the city on the hill would at least be in sight by the time night fell.

Well, I had wanted a work out, I told myself bitterly. This, however, was more than I'd bargained for. The sun had set and it was getting hard to see. And the city was no where it sight. I pushed myself harder, a trickle of fear giving me a little extra strength. Now, I run at night all the time, but this was completely new territory. Getting lost in the dark was _not_ a good idea. Soon, however, I saw a horse cantering toward me. Biting back a cry of relief, I stopped and waited, panting.

"Sky!" I was so relieved that I didn't even care that it was Eomer. "Gods, where have you been?"

"I went running," I panted. "I'm sorry—lost track of time and then ran too far..."

"Where were you?" he asked with a frown.

"I stopped at an odd rock formation overlooking a lake," I replied.

"What? That's more than a league away—nearly two!"

"Oh..." How much is a league, anyway?

"Come, then, lass, I'll bring you home," Eomer said, extending his hand down to me.

Too exhausted to even think about it, I grasped his hand and let him pull me up behind him. I don't think I'd ever run that far or that hard in my life. Every muscle in my body right down to my eye lids and lips had turned to mush—hell, even my _ears_ were tired and I don't think that they even have muscles. My impromptu workout combined with about six hours of lost sleep joined forces to make me doubt that I would make it back without falling off the horse. And now I was getting really, really cold. However, I forced myself to stay awake and hold on to Eomer for all my life was worth to avoid an awkward "damsel in distress" moment.

"Sky, would you like to go riding with me tomorrow afternoon?" Eomer asked suddenly. "I will be in council with my uncle and Aragorn all morning, but once that is finished..."

"Sure," I heard myself saying. "I'd like that. As long as I get some sleep first."

"Ah, yes." I could hear the grin in his voice. "Would you like me to escort you to your rooms or to the stables, my lady?"

"Hardy har har har," I said grumpily. "_So_ funny. My rooms, if you please."

Eomer stopped in the stable yard and caught me as I half slid, half fell from Firefoot's back. Beckoning the stable boy, he took my arm and led me toward his uncle's hall.

"Eamon said you tend your own horse," I remarked, shivering, and quickly disengaged my arm.

"Aye, well, I think I'd best be tending you, else you should fall and break your head. Whatever possessed you to run that much, lass?"

"I would have gone mad," I replied seriously. "I would have driven myself to insanity thinking about...everything. At least now I know I'll sleep."

Eomer stopped and faced me. "Lass...Sky...I do want to make this work, for both our sakes. If there's anything I can do to make this easier for you, you have only to ask."

Immediately I felt like a complete brat. He was caught in this as much as I was and all I could do was complain about it—to his face—while he was trying to make things work.

"I'm sorry, Eomer," I said, hanging my head. "You're already doing all you can. It's just...I've only known you a few days and we're going to be married in three weeks."

Eomer touched my cheek gently. "We haven't much time, I know, but enough to learn a little about each other before we wed."

"I hope so," I sighed, and yawned. "Sorry."

"Come, you look half-dead," Eomer said, and led me to my rooms. At my door, he bowed and kissed my hand, murmuring, "Until tomorrow, my lady."

I smiled crookedly. "I'd curtsy, but I haven't got a skirt to curtsy with."

Eomer winked and flashed me a roguish grin. "Believe me, I noticed."

He beat a hasty retreat while I sputtered incoherently, glaring after him indignantly. I shoved open my door, muttering darkly, and washed my face before pulling on a nightgown and dropping into bed. I should have remembered the whole bare-legged thing, I realized. I had my fiance's reputation to worry about now, not just my own. It wouldn't do for people to think their lord's betrothed was a floozy. Hey, that's not a bad idea...Whoa--down, girl. You promised to try. Growling into my pillow, I punched it and fell asleep thinking evil thoughts about a certain horsemaster.


	5. Chapter 5

Eomer and I didn't end up going riding for a few days because of war councils and training and stuff, but I did have dinner with him every evening. Slowly, my evil thoughts began to subside. Grudgingly, yes, but Eomer was charming, funny, and very kind. And it wasn't his fault, after all. Theoden, of course, was another matter entirely. I avoided him like the plague and gave him nasty looks whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Of course there were a few awkward moments of silence from time to time, but, on the whole, Eomer was very easy to talk to. As long as I didn't think too much about the fact that I was going to marry him in a few weeks. I became very comfortable around him. In fact, most of the awkward moments weren't from my fear of marriage at all—they stemmed from my attraction to him. Completely normal, hot-guy awkwardness. I mean, the man was gorgeous. Hell, if I had to get married against my will, at least I was marrying a hottie, right?

By the time we finally got a chance to go riding, the evil thoughts were gone and we had a blast. Eomer gave me a beautiful stormy gray filly (as an early wedding gift, he said) and told me I could name her. She was no frail lady's horse but a big, strong, athletic looking animal—a trained war-horse, like all of Eomer's horses. The filly and I raced Eomer and Firefoot back to the stables after our ride and we completely smoked them. She was so fast! Needless to say, Eomer shot up a few rungs on the ladder in my mind.

I named the filly Liadan ("gray lady" in Gaelic) and rode her nearly every day, either with Eomer or Eowyn or by myself. Whenever I started to freak out over the wedding or a measurement sitting with the seamstresses went badly or something, I'd take her out for a run and we'd both come back exhausted, but happy. I also followed Eomer's example: when I couldn't sleep, I would creep down to the stables and talk to Liadan instead of sleeping in a pile of hay. Once I bumped into Eomer doing the same thing and it became a regular thing to go down to the stables and chat after dinner.

Time, however, seemed to slip between my fingers and before I knew it, the wedding was only two days away.

"Stop!" I yelled, causing two bickering seamstresses to pause and stare at me. I looked at Eowyn. "I can't do this. I can't. I mean—I'm getting _married_ for Christ's sake--"

Before I could say anything more, Eowyn grabbed my hand and dragged me from the room. Leaving two gobsmacked seamstresses staring openmouthed after us.

"Sky!" she hissed. "Pull yourself together! What were you thinking? Haven't I told you a thousand times that _no one_ can know how you really feel about this marriage? What would Eomer's people think of their future king if they knew his bride was unwilling?"

"Well, the bride _is_ unwilling," I snapped. "I was crazy to agree to this."

"Sky, I know you're nervous about the wedding, but really—you and Eomer have been getting on so well--"

"Is something wrong?" I turned to see Eomer standing in the hallway behind me, looking concerned. "Sky, are you alright?"

"Just wedding nerves," Eowyn said smoothly. "Nothing to worry about."

"I'm a bit nervous, myself," Eomer admitted.

"Nervous" was something of an understatement, in my case. "Panic-stricken" was more like it. I was on the verge of tears and quite possibly a nervous breakdown. Eomer saw this and smiled comfortingly.

"Sky, why don't we have dinner with Liadan and Firefoot tonight?" he suggested, taking my hand.

I smiled shakily. "I—yes, I'd like that." It was a good idea; the stables was a comfort zone for both of us.

To my surprise, Eomer hesitated, then kissed my cheek before hurrying away. I put a hand to my cheek, blushing, and pointedly ignored Eowyn's smug grin. Taking a deep breath, I walked back into the room and climbed onto the chair I'd been standing on. The seamstresses glanced at Eowyn, who nodded and made my excuses—pre-wedding nerves, blah blah blah—and then they returned to pulling me this way and that and poking

me with needles until I was ready to scream again.

When we finished, Eowyn smiled in relief and said, "Let's go for a ride."

"I was just about to say that," I replied with a crooked smile. "I'll meet you at the stables in fifteen minutes."

I hurried to my room with Freda puffing behind and threw open the wardrobe, snatching out a dark gray riding skirt and cloak and throwing them on the bed while Freda unlaced my dress. Next came a shirt and tunic out of the chest. Hastily, I drew on the riding skirts, which were actually really, really loose pants. From nearly all angles, they looked just like skirts, but they parted to make riding easier. Eowyn had invented them years ago and I thought they were fantastic.

I tugged on my boots and buckled my belt as I raced out the door. I met Eowyn in the entrance hall and smiled to see that she had a basket of food with her. I hadn't even realized that we'd missed lunch—it was well past noon. We rode out to the lake I'd found by accident and ate, then rode toward a nearby village. On the way, we were surprised to see a horse and rider cantering wearily toward us. As he came closer, we could see the frightened, desperate expression on his dirty, slightly bloody face.

"My lady Eowyn! Message for the king!" he gasped.

"What is it?" Eowyn cried. "What's wrong?"

"Helmsdeep—under attack—Lord Erkenbrand—oh, my lady, lend me a horse--"

"Take mine," I said decisively, and dismounted. "She's faster."

"Bless you lady," he said fervently.

Within minutes he was gone. Eowyn and I followed as fast as we could, but the messenger's horse was exhausted. When we finally made it back to Meduseld, the sun was low in the sky. We called for a servant to tend the horses, which we usually never did, and hurried into the hall. Freda rushed up to meet us.

"My lady—he's in the council chamber with the king and Lord Eomer and Lord Aragorn's company."

"Thank you, Freda," I said, and turned to go. Then I hesitated. "Wait—how did you--"

Freda smiled. "He rode in on Liadan, lady. I knew you couldn't be far behind."

I flashed her a grin and ran to catch up with Eowyn, who was already halfway down the hallway. We slipped into the council chamber in time to witness Theoden cross examine the poor man about the situation at Helmsdeep. It seemed that Helmsdeep was under attack and wasn't doing too well. One of their best warriors—Lord Erkenbrand—was nowhere to be found and they were badly in need of reinforcements. My heart leapt—perhaps they'd put off the wedding—but Theoden shot my hopes down like a pheasant destined for the cookpot.

"We will set out three days hence," Theoden proclaimed. "Eomer's wedding is the day after tomorrow." He held up a hand as the man sputtered a protest. "I will not leave for war without at least the chance for an heir. And in any case, we will need at least that long to make ready."

"I will go tonight and bring word to Helmsdeep," Gandalf said. "And perhaps be of some assistance."

The messenger wasn't pleased, but he was curious nonetheless. "Who—I beg pardon, my lord—who is your betrothed?"

Heads turned.

"Er—that'd be me," I said, blushing.

"A worthy bride, my lord," the messenger said with a kind smile. "Twas she who lent me her horse to hasten my journey. She will make a good wife—and a good queen."

I blushed and noticed Eomer grinning broadly.

"Aye," he agreed. "Lady Skyla is as kind-hearted a lass as anyone could hope for, despite her sharp tongue."

I cleared my throat. "If you are all quite finished talking about me as if I weren't standing right here, perhaps someone could set about getting this man some food and a bed."

Aragorn laughed and Eomer had the grace to look abashed as Eowyn ushered the messenger out of the council chamber.

"Kind-hearted you may be, my lady," Aragorn chuckled, "but soft-spoken you are not. Eomer, I bid you good luck, and hope for your sake that you are not expecting a docile bride."

"Oh, I've no delusions about _that_," Eomer said, rolling his eyes. Rising, he offered me his arm. "Lady Sky, may I escort you to supper?"

I laid my arm over his and snorted in a very unladylike fashion when his belly emitted a loud, rumbling complaint.

"Are you sure you can wait that long?" I asked dryly, and took a piece of bread leftover from lunch out of my pocket. "Here, eat that."

Eomer took it and we left amid hearty chuckles from the rest of the room. Eomer slanted a glance at me and grinned around a mouthful of bread.

"Not that don't find half-chewed bread incredibly attractive," I remarked, "but I think you'd better swallow that before you say anything."

Eomer nodded and swallowed. "The servants looked at me strangely when I asked that they bring food to the stables."

I smiled. "I'd probably look at you strangely, too."

"Well, it was all right—I told them that you wanted it."

"You beast!" I cried, slapping his arm.

"Well, it's true," Eomer pointed out.

"But you suggested it! Now everyone's going to think your fiance is a loony."

"My what?"

"Oh," I said. "That's the word we use in my world for 'betrothed'."

"What would our wedding be like if we were in your world?" Eomer wondered.

"Well, my dress would be white instead of blue and you'd be wearing a tux--"

"Tux?"

"A—a black and white garment...um, black trousers, a white shirt, black vest, black jacket, and probably a black bow tie. Before you ask, a bow tie is a bow that's tied around your neck—it goes with the tux."

"A bow?" Eomer said indignantly. "I've seen village girls tie bows around their dogs' necks—"

"It is a silly custom," I agreed. "But it's been done that way for many, many years."

"So what would we do in these silly garments?" Eomer asked lightly as we sat down to eat. Firefoot and Liadan stretched their noses out to see what we were doing and then decided that they weren't at all interested in rabbit stew or bread.

"Well, we would go to a church and we'd say our vows and a priest would say his spiel—or maybe the other way around. Yes, actually, I think it is the other way around. And then the priest would proclaim us man and wife and you'd kiss me and then there would be a big party."

"Aside from the church and the priest and the silly garments and lack of games, that sounds a lot like our weddings," Eomer mused.

"I thought the same thing," I agreed, and then sighed. "I'd always envisioned my family at my wedding, though."

"I'm sorry, Sky," Eomer said softly, covering my hand with his own.

"It's not your fault," I protested. "You've been wonderful—I...I think I can do this, now."

"I'm glad," Eomer said simply, and we finished our dinner in companionable silence.

After the servants cleared away our dinner (and gave me weird looks), I flopped down in the pile of hay and stared at the ceiling. A cat stared back from the rafters for a moment, then flicked her tail and moved on. I reflected on the fact that I would be marrying Eomer the day after tomorrow. The thought wasn't so scary anymore. Sure, it wasn't my first choice of ways to spend the rest of my life—or a significant portion of it, but it was no longer a case of marrying a complete stranger. I felt like I knew Eomer enough to know that we wouldn't rip each other's heads off for at least a few months. Seriously, though, I felt like I could make a life with him. Maybe not an ideal life, but I wouldn't be completely unhappy.

"Eomer," I called, "what do the vows here include?"

After a pause, I heard Eomer plop himself down on the other side of the hay pile.

"Well—will I protect you and care for you and provide for you and so on and will you trust me and care for me and bear my children—that sort of thing."

"I think I can do most of that," I murmured.

"Most?"

I sighed and rolled around the pile so I could see him. "Look, I know the whole point of this is the give you an heir, but—I'm only seventeen. I'm not ready to have a baby."

Eomer frowned. "My mother had me when she was your age."

"People marry and have children much later in my world," I explained. "In fact, having a child before you're at least nineteen or twenty—even that's pushing it, really—is considered extremely..." I paused for a moment, trying to find a word he would understand "indicative of wanton behavior. Unseemly." In other words, slutty.

Eomer considered this. "I can't say I really understand it, Sky, but I can respect that you don't want children yet. Theoden probably won't, but I do."

"What about needing an heir and all that?" I asked worriedly.

"Well, I didn't say I'd like it," Eomer said with a frown. "I'll always hope for a child, but I won't be angry if you don't conceive right away. And, anyway, there's always Eowyn."

"Would she be queen?"

"Oh, no—her second son would take Rohan's throne," Eomer told me. "The first would inherit her husband's."

"That makes sense, I guess," I said with a yawn.

"You'd best get some sleep," Eomer told me, and tugged me to my feet. "Tomorrow Gandalf will need your help with the counter when we gather supplies."

"Alright," I replied. "I'm glad the calculator will be useful...you know, Legolas said something my first night here about paying Theoden back. He said...what was it? Oh, right. He said that Theoden is generous, but he doesn't give charity. Something like that."

"That's true," Eomer said thoughtfully as we walked back up to the hall. "Normally, however, it applies more to beggars working in the hall or in the stables for food and things like that. He's never asked anyone for their hand in marriage in return before. For himself or his nephew."

I shuddered at the thought of marrying an old man. "I'm glad I'm marrying you and not him."

"I think I would be too."

The next day was hectic and exhausting—which is probably a good thing. It kept me from worrying too much about the wedding. In any case, I slept as if I were dead that night—and Eowyn didn't deny it when I accused her of slipping something in my tea. My wedding day dawned fair and clear and, surprisingly enough, I felt something almost like anticipation.

I dressed in a nice but comfortable gown and ate the breakfast that Freda had laid out for me, then went with Eowyn to the practice fields to watch the games. I had a grand time watching Eomer trounce everyone and laughed when Eomer lost a single bout when he tripped over a small dog that had gotten loose.

As the sun was setting, everyone crammed into the main hall for the ceremony. I walked with Eomer to the throne as if in a daze. It was kind of like living in a bubble where nothing seemed quite real—as if I weren't really about to be married in mere minutes. I only half listened to Theoden as he gave his speech and murmured "I will" in the appropriate places almost absently. Then, suddenly, Eomer was kissing me gently on the lips and we were married. The only thing I remember clearly is thinking that Eomer smelled pretty good for a guy who'd been sweating and fighting all day.

After that, I snapped out of my semi-trance and found myself in a whirl of music, laughter, shouting (both drunken and sober) and bawdy songs about the wedding night. These put a sick, hollow sort of feeling in my stomach as I tried not to think about what would happen after the feast. Just when I thought I couldn't stand it anymore, Eomer tugged me to my feet and led me out of the hall.

"Would you like to retire to my—our—rooms? You look pale... I could have some wine or tea brought up..."

I smiled shakily. "That—that would be nice. The tea, I mean. And the...the retiring part..." I swallowed and closed my eyes against the tears that suddenly sprang to my eyes.

Eomer beckoned a servant and gave her instructions, then took my arm gently and led me toward his rooms, which lay in a section of Meduseld where I'd never been before. I desperately wished for my bubble to come back. There was a lump in my throat and I felt like my stomach was going drop out of my butt. I wasn't ready for this, I thought frantically as Eomer opened a door and ushered me in.

Eomer's room was very...Eomer. The tapestries on the wall depicted mounted warriors or wild horses. Thankfully, there was a window (in the morning I would see that, where my window gave a view of the city, his showed only open grasslands and distant mountains). There was very little furniture: a couple of chests, a table, two chairs...very Spartan.

"Your things will be moved in here tomorrow," Eomer told me, misinterpreting my silent scrutiny of the room. He motioned for me to sit and I did so hesitantly. "I'm sorry for stealing you away so early, but I thought that perhaps you would want to skip the bedding ceremony."

I stared at him. "Bedding ceremony?"

"It is customary for the guests to...escort the bride and groom to their bed chambers after the feast," Eomer explained.

"No doubt with plenty of bawdy songs and crude jokes," I snorted.

"Naturally," Eomer said dryly.

"Well, thank you," I said gratefully, both to him and to the maid who brought my usual cup of tea and a goblet of wine for Eomer. I sipped my tea and looked down nervously. "Eomer...I—I've never--"

"Don't worry," he said, taking my hand. "Sky, look at me."

I looked at him miserably, fighting back tears. "But I don't know what—I've never--"

"Sky," he interrupted with a smile. "You swore to trust me, remember? And I swore to take care of you. It will be alright, I promise."

Biting my lip, I nodded and rose. I took a deep breath and looked him in the eye.

"Well, then, my lord, let's see about that heir of yours."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: woo hoo! Sky's getting a bit cheeky, isn't she?

animebishieluver: not a bad back up plan, I would think. Kicking, screaming, running away in revulsion...definitely an option if your after deflating his... er, ego...

question: no worries, my duck, all shall be revealed in good time.

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The next morning, I awoke before dawn confused and disoriented. The bed I was in was not my own and neither was the room. And my room definitely did not include a man sleeping in the same bed as me. After a few seconds, though, everything came rushing back—including last night. I almost giggled, thinking, hey—maybe this whole marriage thing isn't so bad. At twenty-four, I was sure Eomer had plenty of experience to make up for any that I lacked—and he did. His promise of "alright" was the understatement of all time. I could almost thank Theoden for throwing me into this mess.

I rolled over and looked upon my husband. It felt odd to think of him like that. He was still Eomer—a naked, slumbering Eomer—but he was my _husband_. His face, even in sleep, looked serious. And that was odd. When awake, Eomer's face would often break into brief, unexpected smiles before returning to its somber state. I let my eyes roam over his hair, mussed from our—er—activities, and down to a broad, muscular chest that was visible above the blankets. I grinned. Screw you, Danny boy. And teenagers in general.

"Good morning." Almost guiltily I snapped my eyes up to meet Eomer's sleepy, smiling ones. "See? It wasn't so bad, was it?"

"It was alright," I drawled, then laughed shyly. "It was wonderful."

"I'm glad," he said, and winked slyly. "Of course, that will have to satisfy you for the next few weeks or so."

"Why?" I asked, startled. To tell the truth, I'd been kind of looking forward to more of the same.

Eomer's smile flickered and faded. "Do you not remember? We leave for Helmsdeep at dawn."

"Oh," I said in a small voice. "I forgot."

"You can sleep a while longer," he sighed, "but I'd best get up. I'll wake you before I go ready Firefoot. You are going to see us off, yes?"

"Of course," I murmured, and rolled over as Eomer slid out of bed. I was still rather shy and wasn't quite ready to see him completely naked, though I'm sure it was a sight to behold.

As soon as it was safe, I watched Eomer get ready instead of going back to sleep. I wasn't sure I liked the thought of him going away for three weeks—or at all, really. In truth, he was the best friend I had in this place. I spent more time with him than with anyone, even Eowyn, who was more like a bossy older sister than anything. What if something happened and he didn't come back? What if I hadn't conceived? Or worse, what if I had?

"Eomer," I said, biting my lip. "You are—you're coming back, right?"

Eomer paused in donning his armor and came to kneel beside the bed. He took my hands in his and looked me in the eye. He had dark, honest brown eyes that reassured me as much as his words did.

"I will return," he said solemnly. "Most would call me a fool for making such a promise, but I will anyway. I did not marry you only to abandon you after one night as your husband."

"Thank you," I whispered. "That makes me feel better."

Eomer stood. "You should probably get up now. Freda drew you up a bath in that antechamber by the chests."

I waited until he was turned around and then dove out of the bed and all but sprinted into the bathing room. I heard Eomer laughing as he left the room. Shaking my head, I dropped into the wonderfully hot bath and washed my hair. Resisting the urge to soak (I was, understandably, quite sore), I clambered out and dried myself off as Freda came in with my underthings.

"Freda, should I wear something special to see them off or is it not a big thing?"

"Oh, no, my lady, something very simple—but it _is_ big—almost an unofficial ceremony," Freda said. "I always forget that you are not from Rohan—you look as if you were born and bred here. All the women gather on the hill to watch the army leave after saying their farewells. There they may weep, where the soldiers can't see." Seeing my confused look, Freda pointed out, "Well, it's fair difficult to go to war with any amount of confidence if you've just left a sobbing woman."

"Good point," I said, donning the soft, dove gray dress that she handed me. I gestured to my combed, still damp hair. "Should I bother trying to do anything with this?"

"Nay, lady," Freda told me, taking the comb, "leave it loose; it will be lovely."

I ate a hurried breakfast and rushed down to the entrance hall, where Eowyn and a knot of women in soft, muted colors stood together, talking in hushed voices. Eowyn smiled wearily when I arrived and gave me a hug.

"Good morning—sister," she whispered. "Come, the men are waiting for us."

I followed her into the town square where the men were assembled, ready to mount. The village women were already there, saying their good-byes. Scanning the crowd, I quickly found him and waded through the organized chaos until I stood in front of him.

"So," I said softly, fiddling with the embroidered trim on my sleeve. "You're going to Helmsdeep—who are you fighting, anyway?"

"Orcs and Wild Men, most likely," Eomer told me.

I shifted awkwardly. "Well—you're coming back, so what's the point in saying good-bye?"

"None at all," Eomer said. He touched my cheek gently before mounting Firefoot. "I will see you in a few weeks."

I nodded and returned with Eowyn and the others to the steps of Meduseld, where we watched silently as the men mounted and, one by one, exited the gates. A few of the women around me began to cry. Almost without realizing it, I began to sing softly.

_"I would I were on yonder hill_

_It's there I'd go and cry my fill_

_And every tear would turn a mill_

_Is go dte tu mo mbuirnin slan._

_Siuil, siuil, siuil a ruin_

_Siuil go sochair agus siuil go ciuin_

_Siuil go doras agus ealaigh liom_

_Is go dte tu mo mbuirnin slan_

_I'll sell my rock, I'll sell my reel_

_I'll sell my only spinning wheel_

_To buy my love a sword of steel_

_Is go dte tu mo mburnin slan..."_

I continued to sing until the soldiers had galloped out of sight. By the time I stopped, tears stained nearly ever face around me. Even my eyes were a bit watery. I didn't want Eomer to die. I might not have chosen to marry him had I been free to choose, but I didn't want him to die. Please, I thought, I'll never complain again if he comes back alive and well. I promise.

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Over the next week, I learned (started to learn, anyway) how to cook, sew, and even speak a little Rohirric. I did most of this in the afternoon. In the mornings, Eowyn and the few soldiers who had stayed behind helped me improve my archery (I knew a little bit already from gym class and summer camp and whatnot). Eamon, who had stayed behind because he twisted his ankle during the wedding games, started teaching me how to throw and fight with knives (everyone agreed that I was too little to wield a sword). The others taught me the rudiments of staff work. Often Eamon and I and a few others would sing after dinner when the entire household was present. Usually I played my flute, too. It was fun and I met a few people that way.

I was surprised, at first, that they were even allowing me to learn, much less helping me. When I expressed my surprise, Eowyn laughed and told me that the ladies of Rohan were not expected to be delicate flowers as the nobles of other realms were.

"That's why you waited until your father and brother were gone to dress in sensible clothing, I'm sure," I said with a grin.

"Nonsense," Eowyn said, but she was trying not to smile.

She strode through the practice yards easily in worn breeches and boots with a sword hanging at her side. I was dressed in a similar fashion, although my boots were not so broken in as hers and knives hung from my belt instead of a sword. We both carried bows.

"Are you ready to plant your royal behind in the dirt, lady?" my partner,Tholren, joked, poking me with his staff.

"I," I said with a dignified sniff, "am always prepared to plant my behind, royal or otherwise, in the dirt. In fact, I'm quite looking forward to it."

To my surprise, however, it was nearly Tholren who ended up in the dirt. Of course, I inevitably wound up on the ground, but it was a very near thing. Tholren helped me to my feet with a pleased grin on his face.

"Well done, my lady," he said, clapping me on the back. "You're getting quite good, you know. You nearly had me a few times."

"Yes, well, 'nearly' still ends up with me on the ground with a sore behind," I said ruefully.

"My lord Eomer is in for a surprise when he returns, in any case," another soldier said with a laugh.

I would have come back with a witty comment, I'm sure, if a horn had not started to blow.

"What's that?" I asked with a frown.

"Enemies approaching," Tholren said tersely, and ran. Over his shoulder, he called, "My lady, get inside!"

"Come on," Eowyn hissed, taking my arm. "Get your bow."

"What? But--"

"Come on!"

I hesitated a moment only. I grabbed my bow and a quiver of arrows and raced after Eowyn. At the stables, she threw a helmet and leather armor at me and barked out orders for our horses to be readied. Trying not the think too much about what I was doing, I pulled the armor on as quickly as I could and mounted Liadan. Eowyn was already out of the stable yard on Windfola, her snowy mare. Liadan and I raced after her.

Our soldiers had met a mob of nasty-looking men about three hundred yards from the gate. They were more than a little outnumbered, but the enemy was clearly not an army—only a few sported any type of armor at all and spears and axes seemed to be more common than swords. There was even a pitchfork or two. Eowyn had just joined the fray, swinging her sword like a madwoman as Windfola gleefully pummeled the enemy with her hooves. I glanced down at my knives and staff. Both would be near useless on horseback, but there was no way I was going on foot.

I scanned the area quickly. Behind the skirmish there was a small hill. If I could get atop that, I could use my arrows to pick them off at my leisure. Relative leisure, anyway. Taking a deep breath, I urged Liadan forward and we surged straight through the mess, trampling anyone who got in our way (none of our soldiers, thankfully). We flew to the top of the hill and wheeled. With steady hands, I took careful aim and let my first arrow fly. It struck a man in the throat. I loaded another arrow and quickly sought another target. This one found a man's leg.

"Easy," I murmured to Liadan, who snorted and stomped under me. She clearly wanted to rejoin the battle. I tried to shoot another arrow, but Liadan spoiled my shot when she stomped with both feet, joggling me. Hesitating, I dismounted and muttered, "Fine, then."

Liadan took off down the hill with a shrill whinny and plunged into the fray, cheerfully beating the crap out of anyone who came near her. I shot until my arrows ran out. I would have been proud if I'd had time to think about it. More of them hit their marks than didn't. When I reached for an arrow and found none, I didn't know what to do. The battle was still in full swing, although our men had won the advantage.

Sweet Jesus, what am I doing? I thought desperately, and sprinted down the hill, drawing both my knives as I ran. I let my momentum carry me into my first opponent. I crashed into him and knocked him down, nearly skewering myself on his sword. Without stopping to think, I slashed at his throat and rolled away.

"Sky! 'Ware sword!"

I spun around and ducked, cursing, as a sword missed my head by inches. I came up under the man's guard plunged my knife into his belly, gagging at the feeling of warm blood spilling over my hands. Heart racing, I jerked the knife free and looked around desperately for Liadan. I had to get out of there. What the hell was I thinking? I was a

skinny little jackrabbit—I was made for jumping and running, not warfare.

I didn't have any more time for mental whining. I met opponent after opponent, several times avoiding death or injury by inches. I wondered giddily how long my luck would hold. Not much longer, it seemed. As lurched away from my fallen enemy, I found myself face to face with a staff-bearing Nasty who immediately swung with all his might at my head. Helmet or no, I dropped like a stone.

I have no idea how long I was out, but it couldn't have been long. Since no one seemed to be paying attention to me and I didn't feel much like getting up anyway, I played dead until the sounds of fighting died away. When I was sure it was safe, I staggered to my feet and looked around, whistling for Liadan. She trotted over with a whicker of greeting and nosed me gently, lipping at my armor. I rubbed her nose wearily and dragged myself into the saddle, ignoring the growing nausea and headache.

"Sky!" I turned carefully and saw Eowyn rushing over. "Oh, I've been looking all over for you, are you alright?"

I looked at the blood splattered across her face and felt the sticky blood between my own fingers. In answer to her question I leaned over and promptly threw up, tumbling out of the saddle as Liadan shied away from the mess. I hit the ground with a groan and clumsily wiped my mouth with a clean patch of grass. I was so, so dizzy. Eowyn knelt beside me worriedly.

"This was your first battle?"

"Yes," I croaked. "Help me up? 'M dizzy..."

"Wait a moment," Eowyn said, tipping my chin up to look into my eyes. "Sky, were you hit in the head?"

"Yeah, with a—a staff or a sword or—something," I answered, closing my eyes. "Whassit matter what I got hit with, anyway?"

"Oh, dear," Eowyn muttered, and lifted me up onto Liadan's back.

She climbed up behind me and turned Liadan toward Edoras. I must have dozed off, because, the next thing I knew, I was in the bathtub and Eowyn was carefully cleaning a cut on my head.

"Almost done, my lass," Eowyn murmured.

"Ugh," I grunted. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

"Not really," I replied. My head felt clearer, but my memory of the battle had become a little foggy. "I remember getting hit, kind of, but not much after."

"Well, at least you remember that much," Eowyn said. "You remember what happened before you were hit?"

I nodded. "I was shooting from the top of the hill and I ran out of arrows."

"Good. How old are you?"

"Seventeen," I said with a frown. Then it clicked. I had a concussion. Hopefully not a bad one.

"Who's your husband?"

"Eomer."

"Which is my uncle's favorite horse?"

Oh, my God, am I supposed to know that? I wondered desperately. What if I really did have amnesia or something? "I—I don't know..."

Eowyn looked grave for a moment and then laughed. "Forgive me, that was cruel. My uncle's favorite horse is Snowmane, by the way."

I splashed water at her and grinned in relief. "You're horrible."

I stepped out of the tub and into a nightgown with Eowyn's help and waited as she braided my hair and bandaged my head. As I climbed into bed, something occurred to me for the first time.

"Were the men mad that we fought?" I asked curiously.

"Oh, Hafrin was _furious_," Eowyn said delightedly. Theoden had left Hafrin in charge of the soldiers. "Of course, I _am_ in charge, technically, in my uncle's absence and he can't order me about. Or you, for that matter."

"I think I'll take Tholren's advice and get inside, next time," I said, touching my bandaged head lightly.

"You did wonderfully, though, for your first fight," Eowyn said, sitting beside me. "Your aim has certainly improved."

"I was surprised," I agreed, and let my eyes drift shut. "I thought I'd be lucky to hit even one."

"You hit plenty," Eowyn told me with a smile. "And there won't be a next time, with any luck. We're leaving in two days."

My eyes snapped open. "Leaving? Where?"

"We can't let this happen again," Eowyn said grimly. "As soon as everyone is ready, we will set out for Dunharrow." Seeing my confused look, she elaborated, "A fortress with plenty of soldiers. Well, more soldiers than we have now, at any rate."

"Oh," I yawned.

"You, however, will drink this and then stay in bed until we leave," Eowyn said firmly, handing me an herbal mixture of some sort.

I drank it down and then protested, "Stay in bed for two days? Are you mad? My arse will rot from inactivity and fall off."

"Oh, hush and go to sleep," Eowyn said cheerfully, and took my cup. "Someone will come in later to give you more of this."

Grumbling, I lay back and was asleep within moments.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: This is the last time I am going to say this: I KNOW EOMER IS SUPPOSED TO MARRY LOTHIRIEL! It will be addressed, I promise. Until then, shut your faces.

ANYWAY, back to the story (my story, may I remind you)

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I was not pleased when I was awoken in the middle of the night and forced to drink a foul herb concoction. Neither was I pleased to find myself all but tied to my bed for the next two days. When Eowyn finally came to fetch me for our trip, I was ecstatic and more than ready to go.

The journey itself was, thankfully, quite uneventful, but I still felt woozy and tired from time to time. I rode or walked, giving children the chance to ride Liadan while Eowyn and I chatted with their mothers. I learned several songs in Rohirric and could even carry on a small conversation for a few minutes before bogging down and resorting to English (or Westron, as they called it). It was alright, since they mostly used Westron, anyway.

When we arrived at Dunharrow two days later, soldiers bowed to Eowyn and stared at me in confusion until Eowyn gave them my name. Then they bowed. (Theoden had sent heralds out proclaiming Eomer's marriage to me, but obviously only the folk from Edoras had any idea of what I looked like).

In Dunharrow, I continued my education in archery, staffwork, and knives. Soon I could hold my own against more than half of my opponents, especially with knives and archery. There was simply too much room for brute force with the staff, although I got very good and deflecting blows rather than blocking them straight-on.

We stayed at Dunharrow for more than two weeks. I tried not to worry. Eomer had said three weeks, but he couldn't know that for sure. They were probably fine. Even so, I found myself becoming a bit crankier and more irritable than usual from worry.

Also, the after-effects from my concussion still hadn't gone away. I still had headaches and got sick and dizzy sometimes and got tired long before I was supposed to. This didn't help my mood any, needless to say. It also kind of scared me. For the first time I realized how very much in danger I could be in this place. What if there was something seriously wrong with my head? Brain surgery wasn't exactly an option.

One afternoon, Eowyn and the other women were desperately trying not to laugh and my feeble attempts at embroidery when a maid rushed in, grinning from ear to ear.

"They're back!" she cried. "Come quickly!"

I threw my embroidery to the ground and rushed outside, ignoring my hair as it whipped around my face. With a frown I noted a band of warriors that were not our own. In fact, they all bore a remarkable resemblance to Aragorn. Sure enough, Aragorn was in their midst, talking and laughing as if with family.

At the head of the procession rode Theoden and Eomer, looking filthy and worn out but otherwise fine. Eomer dismounted in the courtyard and smiled up at me. I grinned and waited as he climbed the steps toward me. He embraced me tightly and then held me at arm's length, looking me over. I did the same, noting a slice on his cheek that hadn't been there before he left.

"What is this?" he asked with a frown, brushing his fingers lightly over the fading scab and bruise that peeked out from my hairline.

"Um..."

"Does it have anything to do with why you're at Dunharrow and not at Edoras?" he asked, brows snapping together.

"Yes," I answered, wondering if he'd be angry.

"They actually broke into the city?" Eomer grabbed my arm. "Was anyone badly hurt?"

"Oh, well—they didn't actually get into the city--"

Eomer stared at me in horror. "You _didn't_--"

I fidgeted anxiously. "Um--"

"She did," Eowyn declared, striding over. "And she fought beautifully."

"Your lady is quite good with a bow and knives, my lord," a soldier added. Everyone had come to greet the returning soldiers.

"Eomer--?" I peered up at him worriedly.

"Don't look at me like that," Eomer sighed. "I'm too tired to be angry with you."

"Oh, good." I called Freda over and told her to draw up a bath, ignoring Eomer's protests.

"Sky, I need a _bed_, not a bath," Eomer grumbled.

"Too bad," I said flatly. "You are not going to _touch_ my bed smelling like that."

Eomer looked startled for a moment, then laughed and let me tug him toward my—our—room, where food had been set out. Maids bustled in and out with buckets of hot water. As we sat down to eat, I noticed that he sat down very carefully.

"Eomer, were you injured?" I asked.

He nodded. "I took a wound in the side—nothing serious, but...uncomfortable. What of your head? What happened?"

"Wild Men attacked while we were training and Eowyn told me to come with her...before you say anything, our men were badly outnumbered and likely needed all the help they could get."

"Still," Eomer insisted. "How much training did you have? You could have been killed!"

"I know," I said, hanging my head. "I was terrified. I was shooting from atop a hill but then my arrows ran out and I had to use my knives. And then someone whacked me in the head with a staff."

Eomer shook his head. "It was a foolish thing to do."

"Perhaps, but I did help," I said defensively. "If I were a boy, you'd yell at me if I hadn't gone, training or no."

"But you're not a boy," Eomer said with a scowl. "You're my wife. My very _small_ wife."

"Your bath is ready, my lord," Freda said with a curtsy, and took our plates.

"I'm not that small," I muttered mutinously.

Grumbling, Eomer went to take his bath and I played my flute for a little bit before Eomer called from the bathtub. For a moment I heard my father's voice, calling for shampoo. Blinking away tears, I went and stood in the doorway to see Eomer vainly twisting and turning, trying to scrub his back. I could see the nasty, stitched up wound in his side pulling as he did so.

Eomer looked over his shoulder at me sheepishly. "Would you mind--"

"Only if you promise not to yell at me any more," I said firmly, taking the wash cloth from him.

"I wasn't yelling at you," Eomer protested.

"You were chastising me."

"With good reason!"

"Fine, then, scrub your own back," I snapped, temper flaring.

"Alright, alright!" Eomer sighed. "Evil woman."

I smirked and scrubbed his back clean of dirt, grime, and no small amount of blood. I began to feel sick again and had to stop and lean over until the wave of nausea passed.

"Are you alright?" Eomer asked, concerned.

"I just felt sick for a moment, that's all," I assured him, patting his shoulder, which was rock hard. "Christ, man, your back is like a slab of granite. Loosen up!"

"What?" Right. Note to self: don't use slang.

"Relax," I said, massaging his shoulders and back with my knuckles.

"Mm," he murmured. "What are you doing?"

"Once your muscles relax enough for me to find a knot, I'm going to get the knots out of your back," I grunted.

"Knots? What do you mean?"

"Always asking questions," I laughed. "I'll explain it to you later, just _relax_!"

With a sigh, he did so. I got a bunch of the knots out, but there were simply too many to get them all. But then, he did lead a fairly stressful life style what with riding around like a bat out of hell and killing things all day. When I was done (when my hands were about to fall off) I left him to dry off and took the opportunity to change into a nightgown and get into bed. I sat there for a moment, biting my lip and twiddling my thumbs. I was kind of worried about the whole "married couple" thing being awkward now that my husband was actually around.

When he came out, he was only half dressed and had a rather roguish grin on his face. I raised an eyebrow, ignoring the fluttery feeling in my chest and the little voice in my head saying, _hell, yes!_

"Weren't you about to fall asleep a moment ago?" I asked.

"I'm not anymore," he said, leaning against the door frame. "I'm beginning to see what the older men have been talking about. It's rather nice having a bed _and _a woman to come home to after three weeks of fighting."

"We're not at home," I pointed out, and swallowed nervously. My heart was starting to race. "But, you know...there's still the bed and—and the woman..."

"Aye," Eomer agreed, and advanced. Leaning over me, he smoothed my hair back and asked, "Did you miss me, Sky?"

"Yes," I whispered. "I swore that I'd never complain about being married again if you came back safely."

"I have come back," he said in my ear. I gulped again. He was quite—quite close. "Safe and sound. Shall I prove it to you?"

"Uh...yeah. That'd be great."

I could have smacked myself. 'That would be great'? Kee-rist, I say the most moronic things at the worst times...oh, well. Eomer didn't seem to mind.

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The next morning, I woke up extremely warm and—whoa, hello! What—oh, yes. Husband. Right. It was extremely disconcerting yet strangely exciting in that warm, tingly sort of way to wake up and find yourself cradled in someone's arms—a man's arms. Somehow I think 'warm and tingly' would not be the words I'd use to describe waking up in a girl's arms.

I shivered slightly and snuggled closer, glad that he was still asleep. This was nice. I didn't want it to end, necessarily, but I didn't really want him awake, either. I didn't want to say something stupid again. Soon, however, he began to stir. I lay still, wondering if I should pretend to be asleep. No such luck. My eyes, seemingly of their own accord, drifted upward to meet his.

Eomer's arms tightened about me and he murmured sleepily, "Good morning."

"Good morning," I answered with a smile. "Are you going to rush off to another battle this time?"

"Not for a few more days, I should think," Eomer said ruefully.

"A few days!"

"Minas Tirith in Gondor is beset by Sauron's forces," Eomer said heavily. "They are badly in need of aid. As soon as we rally all the fighters we can, we will leave. Aragorn and his men will leave the day after tomorrow...he goes on a path where we may not follow."

"Why?" I asked curiously.

"He means to travel the Paths of the Dead." From the look on Eomer's face, I gathered that this was not good news.

"Oh..." I have no idea what you're talking about, but hey, that's alright. "Will Eowyn and I stay here or go back to Edoras?"

"Here, probably," Eomer said. "It's more defensible."

"Are you going to leave men behind to defend it?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

Eomer frowned and sighed. "Honestly, I don't know if we can afford to."

"Well, we'll just hope everyone is fighting in Gondor like you," I said, trying to keep my voice light.

Eomer smiled. "I'm just glad you're not begging me to come and fight, which is what I'm sure Eowyn will be doing the minute I step out of this room."

"Yeah, well, Eowyn's touched in the head," I said with a snort. "That once was enough for me, thank you."

"You cannot conceive how much better that makes me feel," Eomer told me, laughing into my hair. "I don't think I could handle two blood-thirsty hoydens in my life."

"Oh, I wouldn't have gone at all if Eowyn hadn't told me to," I said fervently.

"Do you do everything Eowyn tells you to?" Eomer asked with a smile.

"More or less," I said ruefully. "It's not exactly easy to tell her no."

"That's because she's a stubborn pig," Eomer said with a grimace.

"I'm going to tell her you said that, you know."

"You are welcome to," Eomer said, eyes dancing. "Tis nothing I haven't told her myself."

"You're such a wonderful older brother," I laughed.

"Did you have any siblings?" he asked.

"Three older brothers—and Abbi...she was my cousin, but she was like a sister to me," I sighed. "She lived with us and everything."

"What of her own family? Surely they did not send her away?" Eomer asked, puzzled.

"Her parents died when we were young," I explained. "And my own mother—her father's sister--had died recently, so everyone decided it was for the best that she live with us."

"Everyone?"

I smiled sadly. "My father's side of the family is—um, very prolific. He's got three sisters and four brothers and each of them has three or four kids of their own. They all live near us—sometimes it seems they live _with _us. Kind of like living in a rabbit warren, really."

Eomer laughed. "Do _you_ expect to have so many children?"

My smile faded. This would be the ideal time to remind him of his uncle's promise to help me get home as soon as I provided an heir. Or maybe not so ideal, what with his arms being around me...and we'd been having such a nice conversation.

"Sky--"

"Let's take this one step at a time, shall we?" I said lightly, smiling up at him. "Like getting out of bed, for instance."

I pulled on the nightgown that had been...discarded the night before and padded across the room to pull a pair of trousers and a shirt from a trunk. Slipping into the other room, I changed and found Eomer dressed much as I was and frowning at me.

"What are you wearing those for?" he asked, sounding more curious than cross.

I raised an eyebrow. "Tis fair difficult to fight in a skirt, milord."

"Fight?" Eomer asked, brows snapping together. "Fight who?"

"Eamon, Tholren, even Hafrin spars with me sometimes--"

Eomer didn't look pleased, but didn't argue as I took up my bow and knives and walked with him down to the practice yards. Eowyn was already there, sparring with a soldier I didn't know. Tholren looked up and called out his usual greeting and promise to plant my behind in the dirt and then faltered, seeing Eomer behind me.

"Beg pardon, my lord," he muttered, turning beet red.

"So," I said briskly, "Who's first?"

"Me." Eomer stepped in front of me and crossed his arms.

I looked at him uncertainly. "You?"

"Yes."

I swallowed. Somehow I had a feeling I'd end up in the dirt more quickly than usual. Pushing my nervousness aside, I flashed him a grin. "With knives, then. You'd crush me with a staff, you great brute."

I drew two knives and saw a flicker of surprise in Eomer's eyes as he drew two as well. Many soldiers didn't use knives much at all, and then only one, so I guess surprise was understandable. As we began to spar, I began to feel more sure of myself. Eomer could use two, but he relied on his right hand, using his left only to block occasionally. I, freak of nature that I am, had been blessed with ambidexterity. Abbi had a photographic memory, which I'd always envied, but that's beside the point. The point is that we were both freaky pieces of work and you should be afraid. Very afraid. Grrr.

To my shock, I suddenly found an opening and disarmed his right hand, slipping under his guard and holding my knife to his throat. His eyes flicked down and up again, wide with surprise, then he grinned and stepped back.

"I yield," he said. "Sky, that was amazing! You've only been learning for a month."

"I'm a freak of nature," I said with a grin. "And anyway, I doubt knives are your best weapons."

"No, but I'm not incompetent, either," he said seriously. He flashed me one of his sudden, bright smiles. "I don't feel quite so uneasy leaving you here, now."

"I wish my son could use knives as well as she does," commented one of the soldiers, and everyone laughed.

I spent the rest of the morning practicing and having my arse planted in the dirt—but it happened significantly less frequently than when I'd first started. Aragorn and Legolas even sparred with me. Legolas completely kicked my ass, but Aragorn assured me that he'd been fighting for hundreds of years and that I shouldn't worry about it.

After everyone had gotten a decent workout, we all headed back to the castle for some food and then I went for a ride with Eomer, Eowyn, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and a funny little man named Merry. He was a hobbit, he told me. Not to be confused with a dwarf. He was smaller than Gimli, with curly brown hair on his feet as well as his head and bright brown eyes. I thought he was adorable.

Aragorn and his friends told me about some of their adventures and how Gandalf had apparently died and been reborn somehow. It was all very confusing. One thing, however, was clear: Eowyn had a crush on Aragorn. An enormous one. I hadn't noticed the last time I saw them together because of the whole getting married thing, but now it was as clear as daylight. It was completely understandable. Aragorn had the 'dark and mysterious' thing down pat and was really handsome under the stubble that never seemed to go away. He wasn't quite as powerful-looking as Eomer was, but you could tell that Aragorn was no weakling. In all, I thought Aragorn was a great catch.

At dinner that night, I found myself seated between Eomer and Theoden. Eomer was talking animatedly with Hafrin on his other side, so I ate silently, mulling over the Eowyn-Aragorn issue until Theoden interrupted my thoughts.

"I heard that you beat my nephew today in the training yards," he commented casually.

I glanced up at him, not sure if he was angry or not. "Merely a bit of luck, my lord."

"T'was more than that, according to Hammond," Theoden disagreed. "And after only a month of training."

"I've always been able to use both my hands equally," I told him. "I had an advantage he did not."

"Still," Theoden insisted. "It is impressive."

There was a pause, and then Theoden abruptly spoke again. "I'm not sorry for what I did, Sky, but I am sorry for the distress it caused you. I never wanted to make you unhappy."

"I know," I said. "I just...I always thought that I would choose my own husband and get married when I was ready. But Eomer is a good man and I'm content with him."

Theoden nodded and looked at me closely. "I'm glad to hear that. But tell me: are you happy?"

I opened my mouth and then shut it again. For a moment I wasn't sure what to say. When I answered, I was surprised. "Yes. Yes, I believe I am." However, this brought me no joy. I brooded over it all through dinner and lay in bed staring at the ceiling while Eomer read through some report.

When he lay down beside me and blew out the candle, I asked, "Eomer? Is it wrong to be happy when you know that the ones you love are suffering because of you?"

"Not if there's nothing you can do to ease their suffering," Eomer replied. "Your suffering cannot ease or take away theirs. If anything, I would think that it would make them feel better to know that you are happy."

"But...they have no idea where I am," I whispered. "For all they know, I'm dead. Like Abbi. God, what kind of person am I? Abbi's been dead barely a month and here I am, married and having a grand old time. My family must be miserable and I'm happier than--"

"Happier than what?" Eomer asked tentatively.

"Happier than I've ever been in my life," I breathed. He didn't say anything, so I went on, explaining it to myself as well as to him, it seemed. "I've been happier in these past few weeks than I ever was at home. This place—the land, the people, everything—seems to fit in a way home never did. Like I was missing something and didn't realize it until I came here."

"Sky," Eomer said, touching my hand. "You had no say in any of this. There's nothing you can do, so why fight it? If you can be happy after everything that's happened to you, I don't think you should push it away."

"I could be trying to find the stone circle," I said. "I could be trying to go home."

"Do you really want to?" Eomer asked softly.

"Of course I do," I told him. "Of course I want to go home."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: please review--pretty please?

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Aragorn and his company left the next day and Theoden and Eomer left with the army a few days later to make camp closer to Gondor and wait for the rest of Rohan's forces. The day before they left, I overheard part of a spectacular argument between Theoden and Eowyn about whether she could fight or not. I, personally, thought that it was silly not to let her (she was a better fighter than many of the men), but I was glad that she was staying with me. When we bade them farewell, however, she didn't seem the least bit disappointed. She was positively cheerful.

After they had gone, Eowyn and I went for a ride.

"I thought you'd still be grumpy this morning," I commented casually.

"Why should I be?" she laughed. "We'll be joining them in a few days."

"I thought that might—wait a minute, _we_?" I demanded. "Who says I'm going to do anything?"

"You don't want to?" Eowyn asked, shocked. "But you fought wonderfully at Edoras."

"Yeah, and that was quite enough fighting for me, thank you," I said.

"Then why do you practice every day?" she retorted.

"To stay in shape and to know that I can defend myself," I shot back. "But I have no desire to go _looking_ for people to kill." I smirked. "And I suppose this has nothing at all to do with a certain Ranger, does it?"

Eowyn stared at me in shock. "How did you--"

"Oh, please," I scoffed. "I'm not blind. You follow him about like a lost puppy."

"I do not!"

"Do too."

"Do—oh, Sky, stop it and listen to me. You could make a difference—you'd be helping to destroy the greatest evil in Middle Earth!" Eowyn cried.

"I doubt I'd make that much difference," I said dismissively. "And anyway, Eomer will kill me himself if I don't get myself killed in battle."

"Nonsense," Eowyn said, flapping a hand impatiently. "And, anyway, you wouldn't be able to handle being alone here. Think about it—even Eamon and Tholren will be gone. You'll have no one but housewives who won't speak unless spoken to and won't even look you in the eye. You're royalty, Sky, and, to most people, royals aren't real people."

I thought about this for a few long moments, then cursed. "You are a horrible, horrible person and, if we get caught, I am blaming it entirely on you."

How, exactly, we got out without being seen, I don't know. Eowyn must have slipped something in the guards' drinks or something, because we didn't see anyone as the three of us slipped out of the gates and into the night. Yes, the three of us. Merry was riding in front of Eowyn, half covered by her cloak.

"So," Eowyn said as we made camp a good distance away from the fortress. "Who are you?"

"Sighere," I grumbled.

"From where?"

"Drustan, near the Misty Mountains," I sighed.

"And who am I?"

"My brother, Dernhelm."

"Very good," Eowyn said, smirking. "Hopefully you won't even have to say that much. I plan on telling whoever asks that you were hit on the head as a child and it addled your wits."

"Thanks so much," I grunted, and lay down to sleep. "I can't imagine why you wanted to come, Merry."

"I want to help," Merry said simply. "I can do my part, even if I'm small."

"Spoken like a true warrior," Eowyn said proudly, giving me a look.

"Don't look at me like that," I said crossly. "I'm no warrior. I've never claimed to be anything but a lost little girl. Everyone I care about is going to be in this bloody fight and if it weren't for that, I'd be perfectly happy to sit at home and wait. Now, leave me alone and let me sleep."

The next morning I woke up and hurried off into the bushes to throw up. I sighed. I'd thought after the last few days that my post concussion stuff had gone away completely. But, apparently, no such luck. I sometimes found myself clutching the saddle and panting that day and was profusely thankful when we arrived at the encampment. I was surprised at the lack of scrutiny we received. We gave our false names and they just waved us through.

"That was easy enough," I muttered as we set up our tent.

"Shh," Eowyn whispered. "You can't let anyone hear you talk. Your accent will give you away."

"Sorry," I whispered back.

I threw up again that night and nearly fell from the saddle the next day when we set out, but no one seemed to notice. We rode for two days and stopped again to wait for more troops. To stay out of the way, Eowyn and I hunted and gave two rabbits to the quartermaster, keeping one for ourselves.

"Eowyn," I muttered when we were inside our tent. "Have you ever gone skinny dipping?"

"Have I ever gone what?"

"Have you ever bathed in a lake. You know, gone swimming."

"I've bathed in the stream near Edoras, but I don't know how to swim," she told me.

"D'you want to learn?" I asked, grinning mischievously.

"What, now?"

"Sure," I said. "There was a lovely little pond not too far but not within earshot.""Sky, that's mad," Eowyn hissed. "Weren't you the one moaning about how we were going to be caught? And besides, the water will be freezing!"

"Coward," I shot at her, grinning.

I knew she wouldn't take that one lying down. Twenty minutes later, we were at the pond and Merry was standing guard a few yards away. I stripped off my clothes and was glad that it was an abnormally warm night. Without hesitating, I dove right in. The pond was deep and rocky and had barely any weeds. It was wonderful. Freezing, but wonderful.

"You're insane," Eowyn whispered. "Completely insane."

"Come on in," I goaded her. "You're not afraid."

"No, but I can't swim," she pointed out ruefully.

"You can hold on to the rock," I said firmly. "Now, get your ass in here."

"I don't quite understand what you see in this," she said, teeth chattering.

"I felt dirty," I told her. "And I like to swim."

After fifteen minutes in which Eowyn learned how to tread water and we both nearly caught pneumonia, we were heading back for our tent. Merry suddenly stopped us and hissed, "Someone's coming."

"Put your blanket around you like a cloak," I whispered urgently. "Make a hood for yourself."

The soldier, thankfully, was quite drunk and apparently thought we were camp-followers. I talked us out of it and got Eowyn back by telling him that she kept her hood up because she got a potful of boiling water in the face as a child which had left her horribly disfigured.

"That was uncalled for," Eowyn said grumpily as we got ready for bed.

"Hey, if I'm addled, you can be disfigured," I retorted. "He won't remember in the morning, anyway."

I went to bed feeling clean and pretty good. I could almost forget that I was riding to almost certain death. Could almost forget that Eomer might die as well. Almost.

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We left early the next morning and rode all day. Even after all the riding I'd been doing since coming to Rohan, I was sore and was grateful that I wasn't expected to say anything as the rest of the men talked and laughed around the fire. Drinks went around as toast after toast was made. To the King, to Eomer, to this soldier and that, to Eowyn and to "the Skylark". At first I was confused, then Eowyn shot me an amused glance and I realized they were talking about _me_. When we were in our tent, Eowyn explained that folk had been calling me that for weeks. Apparently word had spread.

I was shocked to hear that we were expected to reach our destination the following afternoon. I was so surprised that I could barely wait to get into the trees to throw up. Actually, the throwing up thing was a coincidence. But I was very surprised and not at all pleased with the news. I didn't sleep well (if at all) and woke up feeling like I'd been trampled by a heard of wild horses. Not the best way to go into battle.

That afternoon, I nearly pissed myself as we came over a rise and saw the battle spread below us. It made the fight I'd been in look like a play fight between kittens. There were orcs and men and weird looking elephants stomping around while archers shot from their backs. I'm no military expert, but it seemed to me that Gondor was definitely not winning.

I took my spear in my hands, knowing that my knives would be pretty useless on horseback. I felt sick and weak. Fortunately enough, however, I'd thrown up a couple of hours ago and so had nothing in my stomach. Before I knew what was happening, I was caught up in a sea of horses surging down the hill and slamming into the enemy army from the side like a huge hammer.

It wasn't long before I was knocked from Liadan's back. I lost her in the mess and prayed that no one would hurt her, by accident or for spite. I moved as if in a trance, without thought—or rather, with one thought: get them before they get me. I didn't hear or see anything but the opponent in front of me. Somehow my spear disappeared and I was fighting with only knives. And then, suddenly, there was an elephant charging toward me. The orc I'd been fighting squealed and threw himself out of the way. I tried to get up, but something was wrong with my leg. So, I did the only thing I could: I sang.

Now, before you scream at me, let me explain. I'm a soprano. To be more specific, a coloratura soprano. I can hit notes that could make a dog's ears bleed. I sang (more like screamed) out the highest note I could as loud as I could and it did the trick. The elephant went haywire, throwing its rider and going on a rampage back through the enemy ranks.

I struggled to my feet in the momentary lull and looked down. My right leg was covered in blood, but that wasn't what had prevented me from standing. My right ankle was twisted badly—probably sprained. Somehow, a small parted of me was relieved—I jump off my left foot. It's weird what you can think of when faced with a life-or-death situation.

I looked around for a likely looking elephant. I had a plan. A really dumb, reckless, stupid plan, but a plan nonetheless. I found one and hobbled over, ignoring the fighting that was picking up around me. I'd noticed that the elephants had dangling ropes on either side of the saddle thing perched on top. I guessed that it was for the rider to get off in a hurry. I doubted anyone thought it could be used for getting _on_ the elephant.

The end dangled two or three feet above my head, but I could get it if I made a halfway decent jump. If I was lucky, my ankle would hold up for said halfway decent jump. And I only had one shot. I broke into a wobbly, lurching run and threw myself up, snatching at the rope. I had it! Now I had to pull myself up. That proved to be more difficult. The muscles in my arms were on the verge of tearing. I tried using my legs, but my ankle made it difficult.

When I finally made it to the top, I was panting and trembly and had barely enough strength to push the rider off. It wouldn't have been difficult, normally; he wasn't looking and hardly expected to be shoved from the side. I lay on top of the elephant for a few minutes and then pulled my bow off my shoulders and started shooting. When I ran out of arrows, I looked around, wondering what to do.

Something caught my eye. Looking more closely, I saw Eowyn without her helmet spit on something huge and nasty at her feet. Then she swayed and toppled over.

"Eowyn!" I cried, and slid down the rope. Crying out as my ankle jarred against the ground, I dragged myself over to where she lay. "Eowyn, say something!"

"Heard you..." she said, smiling weakly. "The oliphont..."

"Hang in there," I said desperately. I saw Merry struggling to his feet nearby. "Merry! Are you alright?"

"That depends," he panted. "On what you consider to be 'alright'. The term's rather relative, when you stop to think about it."

"Can you help me get her into the city?" I asked.

"I think so," he replied as I ripped off about half my shirt to make a bandage.

Eowyn had an ugly looking wound that curved down her side and into her thigh. It looked like she was losing a lot of blood. I'd read somewhere that you're not supposed to move someone if they're bleeding, but if we didn't get her help soon, she'd die.

"Get her head," I grunted. "I'll get her feet—keep the blood near her heart."

Together we hauled Eowyn toward the city. No one payed any attention to us—something was happening near the river. When we finally reached the city, we were both about to collapse. I banged on the huge door and yelled as loud as I could that Eowyn of Rohan needed help _right now_ and would they get their sorry asses out here to give it to her?

A group of women rushed forward and took her from us. One stayed behind to help us out. She gave us water and did a quick bandaging job on my leg and burned hands (from sliding down the rope) and Merry's arm.

"It'll hold till we get to the Houses of Healing," she said. "Have you names, lads?"

"Oh," I said woozily, taking of my helmet. "I'm not a lad—I'm Sky. That's Merry."

"I thought you were a bit small," she commented, but didn't say anything else about my being a girl, but frowned and felt my forehead. "Hmm, you've got a fever. My name is Toury."

Suddenly I stopped.

"Something wrong, lass?" Toury asked, looking at me worriedly.

"I—I--" I couldn't get the words out. I sagged against the wall as a horrible pain struck me in the belly. It was like the worst menstrual cramps I'd ever had in my life. I looked down and saw bright red blood spreading down my pants. Oh, my, I thought woozily. How embarrassing. But something wasn't right. Why was I so dizzy? Dimly I heard Toury calling for help and then lost track of things for a time.

When I woke up, I was in a clean bed with white sheets and wearing a clean white nightgown. My leg was wrapped in clean white bandages Toury was bending over me with a cool cloth. I vaguely remembered images of people dying and Eomer—was he one of them? She smiled when I opened my eyes and took my hand.

"Tis sorry I am, my lady," she said.

"For what?" I croaked, and cleared my throat. I felt kind of woozy and disoriented. Feverish. "And why are you calling me 'lady', now? You called me Sky before."

"Merry has informed that you are Eomer King's wife," Toury told me.

"What? But Eomer's not king yet..." I looked at her sorrowful face and realized what must have happened. "Oh, no..."

"And to have lost the baby as well," Toury murmured with a sigh.

"Baby? Whose baby?" Toury looked at me like she wasn't sure if I was serious. I felt faint. "I was _pregnant_?"

"How could you not have realized, silly lass?" Toury said severely. "At the very least you should have thought of it when you didn't bleed."

"But—I don't bleed every month—I run too much," I said weakly. "Normally I get it every two or three months, if that."

"Then what of the dizziness and vomiting?" Toury demanded.

"I was hit on the head...I thought it was because of that." I flopped back upon the pillows. "I was _pregnant_. Oh, my God. What's Eomer going to say?" Suddenly I shot back up and winced at the pain this movement brought. "Eomer—is he—is he alright?"

"Quite alright, unless he's done something to himself in the two hours since he was here last." Toury said with a smile. "I've sent someone to fetch him."

"What about Eowyn? She looked pretty bad..."

"She's alright," Toury assured me. "The King healed her and Faramir. She's sleeping now."

"Wait, which King? I'm getting confused," I groaned.

"Why, Aragorn, of course," she said. "Silly thing."

Huh. Aragorn always did strike me as regal. Speaking of royalty... "Was—was Eomer very angry?"

"About what? Seeing you here?" Toury asked. "Like a madman. But don't worry, lassie, tis only because he was worried about you."

"Did you tell him about...you know..."

"Nay, I told him you had a fever," Toury said. "Which you do. And I thought that you'd best tell him yourself."

"Oh," I said, face falling.

"You'll be fine, my little lady." Toury smiled and patted my knee as Eomer hurried in.

Eomer hastily sat in Toury's vacated chair and took my hand. "Sky, are you alright? I mean, do you feel alright—they said you were fine, but...what? What's wrong?"

I looked down, trying to compose my features, then looked back up miserably. "I'm sorry...I didn't know—and I would have been alone if I'd stayed behind--"

"Didn't know what?" Eomer asked in confusion. "Sky, I'm not angry with you. I'm just happy to know you're alive."

For some reason knowing that he wasn't angry broke me down. My body might have rested, but my mind was still exhausted from everything that had happened. I began to cry and babble incoherently. Eomer, looking alarmed and extremely confused, tentatively wrapped his arms around me and didn't let go until the waterworks were finished.

"Would you care to repeat some of that in an order I can understand?" he asked dryly. "I heard a lot of 'I'm sorry' and 'I didn't know' and something about bleeding and vomiting and dizziness but not much else."

"I was pregnant," I whispered. "It never even occurred to me. I thought I was dizzy because of getting hit in the head."

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Eomer said uncomfortably. "But doesn't the—the bleeding stop?"

"Yes, but I rarely bleed anyway, so I didn't notice," I explained. "You're not angry?"

"Of course not," Eomer said, hugging me tightly. "A bit disappointed, I suppose, but right now I'm still caught up in the fact that you're alive."

"Likewise," I said with a crooked smile. "I was so afraid you'd die. I had dreams about it."

"I must say I had very little of those sort of thoughts, knowing that you were safe at Dunharrow," Eomer said teasingly. "Or so I thought, anyway."

"If I'd stayed behind I would have gone mad," I said lying back against the pillows. "And there'd be no one to keep me sane. You and Eowyn are the best friends I have and you would both be gone." I closed my eyes. "You're my best friend, Eomer."

"As you are mine," Eomer said, placing a chaste kiss on my forehead and standing up to go.

As I snuggled into the warm blankets, I fell asleep feeling like something was missing.


	9. Chapter 9

I woke up early the next morning feeling much better. Looking around, I saw that Toury wasn't there and neither was anyone else. With a shrug I got out of bed and pulled a blanket around my shoulders. Eowyn lay in the bed next to me, fast asleep but looking healthy. Merry was nowhere to be seen. With a shrug, I turned and limped out the door.

I wandered around for quite awhile, quickly becoming lost. I had no idea what time it was because there were no windows. It could have been the middle of the night or afternoon for all I knew. Soon, I heard voices echoing faintly through the corridor. I followed them, feeling very relieved—my leg was really starting to hurt--, and pushed open a door to find a meeting chamber of some sort. Eomer, Aragorn, Legolas, Gandalf, and a few other men I couldn't recognize in the poor light were in the midst of a discussion.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, starting to back out. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Sky!" Eomer exclaimed, getting up and hurrying over to take my arm. "Should you be out of bed? You're injured—and it's not yet dawn."

"No one told me not to," I said reasonably.

"Was anyone _there_ to tell you not to?" he asked with narrowed eyes.

"I plead the fifth."

"What?"

"I'm not answering that question," I said amid hearty chuckles.

"Move aside, Eomer," said one man. "Let us see the famed Skylark of Rohan. I heard an interesting tale involving an oliphont and I must say, I was intrigued. The city folk are saying she can control animals and even the wind with just her voice."

Eomer snorted. "That's not so far from the truth. Sky could nag a wolf into giving up its kill."

He moved aside and I saw the man who spoke clearly for the first time. We stared at each other for a full minute and then I flew at him, shrieking, "Daddy!"

He stood up and caught me in a tight embrace, murmuring, "Dear gods, how is this happening? Lothiriel..."

I pulled back. "What?"

Daddy pushed my hair back from my face. Tears were in his bright blue eyes--my eyes. "Lothiriel...you were dead, I saw it..."

"My name is not Lothiriel," I said shakily, pulling away. "Daddy, why—why don't you know my name?"

"Because he's not your father, Lady Sky," Gandalf said, rising to his feet as Eomer stepped up behind me and grasped my shoulders. "This is Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. Imrahil, she is not Lothiriel. She is not your daughter."

"What are you saying, Gandalf, of course she is!" exploded a man who'd been sitting at the far end of the table. "Look at her! That's my sister."

As he came out of the shadows, my jaw dropped. "Jack?"

He looked at me almost pleadingly. "Thiri, what happened? What's the matter with you? It's me, Amrothos."

"What's the matter with _you_?" I retorted. "I'm not Lothiriel, I'm Sky. And your my brother, Jack."

Suddenly everyone was talking at once. It was impossible. My family was here! They were all there...Daddy, Jack, Michael, and Patrick. And yet they were all insisting that my name was Lothiriel and that theirs were Imrahil, Amrothos, Erchirion and Elphir. Which was a load of crap, of course.

"Silence!" Aragorn boomed. He sat down, rubbing his face. "Gandalf, please, please tell me what is happening. Tell all of us."

"Lady Sky, why don't you sit down?" Gandalf suggested, gesturing to Eomer's seat beside Daddy—Imrahil—whoever the hell he was. "Now, first let me apologize for missing your wedding, but Helmsdeep could not wait."

"That's alright," I said faintly. "You missed Eomer lose a match by tripping over a dog, though."

"I am most disappointed," Gandalf said solemnly, but his eyes were twinkling. "After the battle of Helmsdeep and after we parleyed with Saruman, Peregrin Took and I came here to assist Minas Tirith. Imrahil arrived soon after with his company and I knew then who you reminded me of. I remembered hearing of his daughter's recent death, but I had never met Lothiriel. However, I had an idea of what she might look like. It was then that my theory was born."

"And this theory is...?" Imrahil prodded.

"I believe that in this world, there are pockets of people who have counterparts in other worlds. Lady Sky, I believe I am correct in saying that your mother died when you were young?"

"Yes," I said with a nod. I thought I knew where this was going. "Did Da—Imrahil's wife die, too?"

"She did indeed," Gandalf said gravely.

"Then, why didn't I die when Lothiriel died?" I asked. "Why was I pulled into this world, instead?"

"Wait a moment," Pat/Elphir said, holding up a hand. "I don't think I understand what exactly you're saying."

"I believe that these people who have counterparts in another world must coexist with their counterparts. If one dies, his or her counterpart dies also," Gandalf explained.

"So if my counterpart walks off a cliff, I'll simply die?" Pat/Elphir asked. He looked extremely disturbed.

"That's not quite the way it would work, if my theory is correct," Gandalf said. "Think of it as an intertwined fate, if you will. You are both destined to die at the same time."

"So why didn't Sky die when Lothiriel did?" Eomer asked, his hands tightening on my shoulders as if he was afraid that I might drop dead at any moment.

"I'm not certain," Gandalf admitted. "Perhaps Lothiriel was not supposed to have a counterpart or perhaps they were supposed to be reversed and Lady Sky was supposed to be here, not in the world she came from. Or perhaps it was simply her destiny to marry you and save Lady Eowyn's life."

I sat back. I felt like all the strength had been drained out of my body. "I thought—I thought I'd found my family..."

"And we thought our baby sister had come back," Michael—Erchirion—said with a sad smile.

"I think I want to go back to bed," I whispered. Eomer helped me up and I hobbled out the door, leaning on his arm for support.

"Sky," Eomer said, "why don't we visit Liadan? We found her on the outskirts of Pelennor after the battle...without you. I thought you'd fallen."

"Oh! Is she alright?" I asked anxiously. "We got separated somehow and I couldn't find her."

"She's fine," Eomer assured me. "A bit scratched up, but fine. I'm sure she'll be glad to see you."

Liadan _was_ glad to see me. She nearly knocked me over with her snuffling and nosing. I buried my face in her neck to hide the tears leaking out of my eyes. The slice on my leg ached and my sprained ankle was throbbing, but that pain came no where near the pain in my heart. It felt like a tiger was trying to claw its way out of my chest. I wished I could go running or riding or—_something_.

"Eomer? Is there a stream—a cold one—anywhere near here?"

"Aside from the Anduin? I don't know...we could ask Faramir." Eomer looked at me closely, but kept his distance. "Why?"

"I need to ice my ankle," I said. "It'll heal more quickly if it's put in cold water from time to time. Brings down the swelling."

"Is it very bad?" Eomer asked. "I twisted my ankle once—I couldn't move properly for weeks."

"It's not that bad at all," I assured him. "If I ice it diligently, I should be alright in a few days. Not great, I guess, but okay. What about the cut on my thigh? How long will that take?"

"A week or two, no more," Eomer said. "It's only a slice, really. You know, there are also herbs to reduce swelling. It would be foolish to have to go out every time you need to ice it. How often do you need it?"

"Er—well, you're supposed to do it every twenty minutes," I said. Seeing Eomer's raised eyebrow, I hastily added, "But that's probably not going to happen. So herbs would be great."

Eomer opened his mouth to reply when a boy ran up and cried, "My lord, Ioreth sent me to tell you that your sister has awakened."

Eomer looked ready to run off, but looked at me first. "Sky, are you--"

"I'll be fine," I told him with a smile. "I'll meet you there. I'm sure this young lad wouldn't mind helping me."

Eomer nodded and hurried away. It made me smile to see him rushing off to see his sister, but it also made me sad. If I were in Eowyn's place, I would have had three brothers doing the exact same thing. Or rather, should have. I looked at the boy, who was really not that much younger than I was. Twelve or thirteen, maybe.

"What's your name?" I asked with a smile.

"Den, my lady," he mumbled, not looking at me.

"Well, if you wouldn't mind showing me the way back to the healing place, I won't take up any more of your time," I told him.

"That won't be necessary," came an all too familiar voice. Amrothos stood a little ways away with a determined look on his face. "I will escort the lady to the Houses of Healing."

Den nodded and all but fled, leaving me alone with one of the three men I least wanted to see.

"I mean no offense," I said softly, "but I don't want to see you right now."

"Lady Sky," Jack—Amrothos—said, running a hand through his curly hair. Something that Jack never did. "I know you are not my sister and I am not your brother, but—that does not mean we can't be friends. Or at least friendly."

"Why should we be friends?" I asked bluntly. "Every time we look at each other, we are reminded of those we lost."

"Because I need to get to know you," he said almost desperately, "so I can truly accept that you aren't my sister. Part of me still thinks that you are and I can't—I can't live with that."

I said nothing, realizing that he was right. I still thought he was Jack, deep down inside. I sighed.

"Are you going to show me the way back, then, or not?"

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I stood on the ramparts with Eowyn and a nurse who was there to attend her. It was two days later and we were watching the men ride off to battle—again. Only, this time, Eowyn and I weren't going to join them. I, personally, was not all that upset about that part. I was more worried about Eomer coming back safely a third time. Eowyn, however, was distraught. It killed her that even Merry and his cousin, Pippin, were allowed to fight and she was not. It was useless to remind her that she was wounded, because it was true that they would not allow her to fight even if she were healthy.

"I should be with them," came a voice from behind us.

Faramir joined us, staring out at the retreating army with stony eyes. I'd met him the day before in the Houses of Healing. He was Amrothos's cousin, but he bore only a vague resemblance to any of my cousins, which was a blessing. Apparently his father, the Steward of Gondor, had gone mad and tried to burn himself and Faramir on a funeral pyre even though Faramir was wounded, not dead. He was the younger son—his older brother had died in battle to protect Merry and Pippin and their friends—also hobbits—from orcs. One of the hobbits, Frodo, had a ring that had to be destroyed in the same mountain it was made in or else Sauron would take over the world. He was trying to do this as we stood there and the army was riding off to provide a distraction.

Crazy shit going on here, man.

"You're wounded," I pointed out for the hundredth time. "Both of you. I, for one, am quite happy to obey my husband for once, even if it means worrying to death. I'd much rather worry myself than cause him to worry and get himself killed because he's distracted."

"Most unfortunately, I have no husband to obey," Faramir said, giving me a swift smile. "And no husband to worry for."

"Then worry for mine," I told him.

"You do him a disservice, Sky. Eomer is one of the finest fighters I have ever seen."

"Yes," I agreed quietly, then grinned. "But I beat him with knives, once."

"You did not, you minx," he snorted.

"She did," Eowyn said, speaking for the first time. She had a faint smile on her face. "The look on his face was priceless." We watched in silence until Eowyn sighed and said, "Sky, sing something. It was good luck last time."

I considered for a moment, then sang,

"_The minstrel boy to the war has gone_

_In ranks of death you will find him._

_His father's sword he hath girded on_

_And his wild harp slung behind him._

_"O Land of Song" cried the warrior bard_

_"Tho all the world betrays thee_

_One sword at least thy rights shall guard_

_One faithful harp shall praise thee!"_

_The minstrel fell but the foeman's chain_

_Could not bring that proud soul under._

_The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again_

_For he tore its chords asunder._

_And said, "No chains shall sully thee,_

_Thou soul of love and brav'ry_

_Thy songs were made for the pure and free_

_They shall never sound in slavery!"_

As I finished, I noticed that both Eowyn and Faramir had tears in their eyes and the nurse was weeping openly. The song was a familiar one for me, but they had never heard it before and I could fully appreciate for the first time how powerful the lyrics were. And it was all too fitting for our current situation. No doubt there were plenty of boys, minstrels or not, down there who should be at home helping their mothers rather than marching bravely toward death.

"I see now why they call you the Skylark, my lady," Faramir said. His voice was rough.

"A more select group of people also call me 'jackrabbit'," I said forlornly, thinking of Eomer's eored and the guards of Edoras and Dunharrow.

"Why?" Faramir asked puzzledly.

"Because all she does when she's not training or riding is run and jump over things just because she can," Eowyn answered with a snort.

"That's not all," I protested. "I embroider those wretched tapestries—try to, anyway."

"You've done that perhaps three times since you married my brother and only because Ealia threatened you with no supper."

"Still," I insisted, then sighed and made a face. "I won't be training, riding, running _or_ jumping anytime soon, anyway."

"Oh, you'll be well in no time at all," Faramir said dismissively. "You're not even limping any more and it's only been a few days."

"Only because I don't let myself limp and I'm nowhere near well enough to train or run or jump. Or even ride," I added grumpily. "Speaking of which, I should probably go ice my ankle."

"Take Grenlen with you," they chorused.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, waving them off, and went to find Grenlen, the guard Eomer had appointed to take me to the stream some distance from the city and wherever else I went outside the palace.

Grenlen led Liadan as I perched atop her back, feet dangling loosely. My ankle wasn't up to stirrups just yet. When we got to the stream, he helped me dismount silently and waited while I sat with my foot in the ice cold stream. In silence. I swear the man had no personality whatsoever. I mean, I've met rocks with more people skills than him. He was just—wait a minute, where was he?

I looked around frantically and saw him lying on the ground behind his horse. With an arrow in his chest. I carefully stood up and knelt beside him. He wasn't breathing. I felt fear wash over me like a bucket of ice. Scrambling to my feet, I threw myself onto Liadan's back and wheeled her back toward the city without hesitation. I found myself blocked by a dirty, greasy looking man on a mean looking dun pony. Another two moved in behind me.

"What do you want?" I demanded harshly, heart hammering against my ribcage. "Who are you?"

"Jes' honest rogues out to make a livin'," the one in front of me drawled, revealing yellow, jagged teeth. Gross.

"I have no coin," I said tightly. I ripped off a silver chain Eomer had given me. "Take this and go."

I tossed the chain and the rogue caught it, grinning. "Thankee kindly, lassie, but we'll be taking ye as well. And yer pretty horse."

We'll just see about that, I thought grimly, and kicked Liadan into a gallop. We charged right past the dun and its stunned rider, making straight for the city. I cursed the sturdy dress I wore for being awkward and my ankle for being completely useless, even when wrapped up. Which it wasn't, at the moment. In fact, my right foot was bare and I was galloping through a forest with no stirrups. Not the most intelligent thing to do, as it turned out.

We came to a fallen tree and we soared over it—but I kept soaring after Liadan had landed and hit the ground with a thump. Thankfully, my ankle was spared more damage but Liadan was long gone. A part of me was relieved that she at least had escaped. The rest of me was scared shitless.

"Fiery," a rogue leered. "Young, too. Fetch a pretty price in the island markets, she will."

"Tell us, lass," said their leader with an ugly smile. "Have ye been deflowered yet? Or are ye a virgin still?"

Something made me squeak, "Virgin," though I don't know why. Happily enough, it turned out to be the right thing to say, as they were more interested in the money a virgin would bring than in having me for themselves. The thought made me shudder. But I still had some hope, at least. I didn't know how long it took to get to wherever they were planning to take me, but I prayed it would be long enough for me to do something. Anything.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: >sniff> well, this is the end--or maybe not. I wasn't sure if it needed an epilogue or not. Should I or shouldn't I? And if I should, what should it be about?

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>.

We rode. And rode some more. I rode behind the leader with my hands tied in front of me so that I could only use my legs to keep myself aboard. It was extremely uncomfortable. I went quietly, biding my time. I had a knife in my boot and another in my bodice, but I couldn't move too soon, lest they take them both from me. I had to wait for the perfect opportunity.

Aside from some snide comments and lustful looks, they treated me pretty decently, for rogues, even if it was only because they planned on selling me. I ate as much as I needed and they didn't lay—well, too many hands on me. They treated me much better than their one dog, a scruffy brown and black border collie-ish looking thing with one ear that stood up and one that flopped over a bit. He and I became friends—I'd sneak him my scraps and he would sleep with me at night, keeping me warm. I called him Robin Hood, because he was the only honorable outlaw of the group.

My opportunity came after two weeks of my thighs and butt straining to the limit for hours every day. That night, they left me tied to a tree with one guard while the rest went off to do mischief. On a hunch, I stayed put and was happy that I did. They came back shortly laden with bottles of ale or whiskey—something alcoholic, anyway, because they were completely pole-axed within an hour and fast asleep in two.

I reached into my boot and carefully sawed through the one rope binding me to the tree (apparently, they didn't think me very capable) and then worked through the ones around my wrists, which was difficult and nerve-wracking. I kept starting at every little noise, convinced that it was one of the rogues waking up.

When the ropes finally fell away, I slipped my boot off and padded away into the darkness. I hadn't gotten far when a cold, wet something nudged my hand. Stifling a yelp, I looked down to see Robin Hood looking up at me with his head cocked and tongue lolling out, as if asking where I was going.

"Christ, Robby, you scared the shit out of me," I hissed. "Go on, you'd better go back. I've got to leave."

I started off again and Robin Hood followed dutifully. I stopped again and tried to shoo him away, but he was having none of it. He sat on my foot and looked up at me in a very firm sort of way. I sighed. If he wanted to come with me, I guess I'd have to let him. Those bandits treated him like crap, anyway.

The moon was full and bright, but I had a slight problem in that I had no idea where I was and no idea where I wanted to go. Robin Hood soon started to trot ahead, so I followed him. Might as well, I told myself. As long as we're going away from the bandits. We came to rest several hours later under a willow tree next to a pond. Gratefully, I curled up with my head pillowed on Robby's flank and fell deeply asleep.

When I woke up the next morning, it was to find myself surrounded by tall, impossibly beautiful people that put me in mind of Legolas. Upon closer inspection, I realized that they were elves, too. Some, however, were dark haired and some were light haired like Legolas. I sat up, looking around warily. Robin Hood sat with a cheerful, tongue-lolling grin as if without a care in the world.

"Good morning," I said hesitantly.

"Good morrow," answered a dark haired woman. She had a surprisingly low, but pleasant voice. "I trust you slept well?"

"Very well, thank you," I answered, and it struck me that this was kind of a strange conversation to be having.

"It pleases me to hear that," the lady said. "This tree has ever given shelter to those in need of it. Perhaps you could tell us as we ride why you were in need of shelter." I could hear a ripple of laughter in the lady's voice. "And why you wear only one boot."

I blushed. "Certainly, lady. But I fear I'm completely lost...where are you riding?"

"Our destinations are one and the same, Skyla Connelly," said a light haired lady.

I stared at her in shock. "Do—do we know each other?"

The lady smiled. "Nay, little one, but I know what is in your heart. You are brave, little Skylark, and more than deserve our assistance. No doubt you are missed at Minas Tirith."

Perhaps, I thought. "But—who are you?"

The dark haired lady laughed. "We have been remiss, forgive us. My name is Arwen."

"And I am Galadriel," said the light haired one. "This is my husband, Lord Celeborn."

"And I am Elrond," added a dark haired elf. "You must forgive my daughter, Lady Skyla. We travel to her wedding and I fear she has forgotten her old father."

"And the old father has forgotten his sons," another remarked dryly. "I am Elrohir. My brother is Elladan."

"A wedding?" I said with a frown. "Who is your betrothed?"

"Aragorn," Arwen said with a brilliant smile.

I grinned at her. "So it was you who gave him the jewel he wears around his neck."

"He wears it still?" For a moment, Arwen lost her ancient, dignified air and seemed barely older than myself—simply a maiden in love.

"How he manages to return from battle with it intact is beyond me," I said.

"Come now," Elrond said gently, cutting off whatever his daughter was about to say. "The sooner we leave, the sooner you may see your beloved."

"The lady is welcome to ride with me," Elladan offered hopefully.

"I think not," replied his father with a disapproving glance. "Lady Skyla shall ride with me."

"An excellent idea, my lord," Galadriel agreed, favoring Elladan with a stern look. "Twould not be seemly for a wedded woman. I believe Rohan's king would be most displeased."

"The King of Rohan, eh?" Elrohir winked. "Ah, well, Eomer King is a lucky man."

I rolled my eyes. Eomer probably wouldn't mind at all, except to worry in an older-brother, overprotective sort of way. He treated me no differently than he did Eowyn—except in, er...certain circumstances.

"I would not be so certain," Galadriel murmured to me, and moved away to mount her own horse.

I stared after her in surprise. Could she read minds? I shivered and accepted a leg up from one of the guards. As we rode, I told them my entire story. Yes, the entire thing. I was going to leave out the whole came-from-another-world thing, but Galadriel, of course, knew I was hiding something. They were unsurprised to hear of my counter part, for Celeborn and Galadriel had met Lothiriel before and had been confused as to why I looked exactly like her. Galadriel—of course—knew that I wasn't Lothiriel. Oddly enough, it endeared her to me. Probably because I'd finally found someone outside of Rohan who didn't insist that I was this Lothiriel person.

They were surprised by my story of how I escaped the elephant and bade me sing something. I sang "Think of Me" from the Phantom of the Opera, taking great pleasure in the oral acrobatics at the end. I had the feeling that simple folk songs would not suffice—something about them seemed to demand something more..I don't know, classy—or at least impressive. Even if it spooked the horses.

When I came to the part with the rogues and Robin Hood, they didn't understand the name and I spent a good amount of time telling the story of Robin Hood. They were delighted with it and asked to hear more stories from my world. I suppose that they'd lived so long that it must have been a long time since they heard something new. So I told them all the stories I knew, from Greek myths to the Tooth Fairy to Sleeping Beauty and Snow White—but then I had to explain that the seven dwarves were a different variety of dwarf. It was somewhat difficult to imagine Gimli doting on a girl hand and foot and living in a cozy little cottage.

It took us a little over a week to reach Minas Tirith, which surprised me. But then, who knew what super duper speed traveling powers elves possessed? As we rode through the streets, I felt extremely small and grubby compared to the tall, dignified, immaculate assembly that surrounded me. My hair was a mess, my clothes rumpled, and I still only had one boot because there was no way that any of theirs were going to fit me. So I kept my hood up and hoped no one would notice me.

Our arrival at the palace was somewhat anti-climactic. Until I lowered my hood, that is. A stable boy—Den, I realized—took one look at me and sprinted off, bellowing that the Skylark had returned and someone fetch Lady Eowyn. Within moments Toury and Ioreth, the head Healer, had arrived and hustled me away to the Houses of Healing, despite my protests that I was absolutely fine. When we finally got there and they had a chance to examine me, they grudgingly admitted that all I needed was a bath and fresh clothes.

As I was stepping into the bathtub in my chambers, Eowyn burst in and caused me to fall over into the tub. I sat up, spluttering, and glared at her indignantly. She rushed right over and embraced me, soaking herself in the process.

"Oh, Sky, we were so worried! And then Den said that you were in the courtyard, and they said you were in the Houses of Healing, and _they_ said that you were in here...whatever happened? Are you alright? Liadan nearly broke down the gates and when we went to look for you all we found was Grenlen with an arrow in his chest..."

"I'm fine, I promise--" Suddenly there was a joyous bark and Robin Hood bounded in through the door (Eowyn had left it open in her haste) followed by two puffing, red faced maids.

"I'm sorry, my lady," one said breathlessly as Robin Hood placed his paws on the edge of the tub and licked my face, tail wagging furiously. "He just charged in as soon as someone opened the door...we'll just take him outside, shall we?"

"No, no," I said, scratching his head. "He's fine."

"But, my lady..."

"He stays," I said firmly.

"Then I suggest you give him a bath, too," the maid said with a sniff, and the two hurried off.

"Alright, explain," Eowyn said. "Eomer has been gone for a week looking for you. He'll be furious when he finds out you've come back while he's away." She must have seen something in my face because she touched my arm gently and said, "Believe me, Sky. If he were here, he would have been the first to greet you. We've sent out messengers to find him."

I told her everything that had happened and how Arwen and Galadriel had found me. I faltered for a moment when I told her who Arwen was marrying, but, to my surprise, Eowyn merely laughed and commented how lucky Aragorn was. I was astounded. The last I saw, Eowyn had been head over heels in love with Aragorn. When I asked, she merely gave me a mysterious smile and didn't answer.

When I was done, I wrapped myself in a towel and the two of us wrestled Robin Hood into the bathtub and scrubbed him down. By the time we were done, we were both completely soaked—as was the rest of the room. Robin Hood crouched in a corner, fur standing up in spikes and looking scandalized.

By the time I'd gotten dressed and braided my hair, Robin Hood had forgiven me and trotted by my side as happily as ever. First, we went to see Liadan, who needed considerably greater amounts of persuasion—that is to say, carrots—to forgive me. She didn't seem to mind Robin Hood, though, which was a blessing.

There was a feast that night to welcome the elves and to celebrate my safe return. It was then that I discovered the reason for Eowyn's blasé attitude toward Aragorn's wedding. Faramir. I grinned at her from across the table and was surprised to see her blush deeply. Faramir, completely oblivious, put his hand over hers and smiled at her in a way that seemed oddly familiar. I couldn't quite put my finger on it but didn't have time to worry about it—Robin Hood was trying to surreptitiously snag a chunk of ham from Lord Elrond's plate as he talked with Aragorn.

Later, I asked Faramir whether he had asked Eowyn to marry him yet. He blushed and stuttered, but finally managed to spit out the word "no". I told him to get on with it, but was secretly relieved. I didn't want Eowyn to leave Meduseld.

Two days later, a commotion outside my window brought me out of a light, restless sleep. I scrambled out of bed and looked outside. There was a company of horsemen clattering through the gates. I couldn't see their faces in the pre-dawn light, but I knew who they were. I ran through the castle without bothering to change or even put on slippers and blew into the courtyard with Robin Hood on my heals.

"Eomer!" He turned just in time to catch me as I threw myself into his arms. I was surprised to feel tears pricking my eyes. I hid my face in his chest so he wouldn't see.

"Sky," Eomer said, voice ragged. "Sky, look at me."

I looked up and the look in his eyes took my breath away. But I didn't have time to contemplate it just then because he kissed me as if...I don't even know how to explain it. I mean, we'd kissed before. Hell, I'd slept with the man. But it wasn't anything like this. This was more...it was as if--

"I love you, Sky," Eomer whispered. "I know you're only with me so you can go home, but there it is. I love you."

Before I could answer, his men started shouting catcalls and making such a fuss that I blushed beet red and Eomer and glared at them until they were silent. Then he wrapped his cloak around me and strode off to put Firefoot away. I looked down at Robin Hood, who looked perplexed at this strange turn of events.

"Yeah, me too," I muttered, and waited for Eomer to come out.

When he did, he dropped my silver chain into my hands and strode off without speaking. Hurt and confused, I followed him to our rooms. He undressed and flopped down on the bed, facing away from me. Robin Hood nuzzled my hand, whining anxiously. I scratched behind his ears, not sure what to do. I padded over to the bed and sat down cautiously.

"Eomer--"

"Don't," Eomer said tightly.

"Don't what?" I asked, becoming upset. Hadn't he just told me that he loved me? Did he regret saying it?

"Just leave me be," he growled. "I rode all night to get here. I'm tired."

"You rode all night so you could get here and be a complete bastard?" I demanded, tears threatening once more, but for an entirely different reason.

Eomer rolled over, astonishment and indignation evident on his tired, unshaven face. "I just told you I loved you, woman! D'you have to rub it in?"

I felt cold. "Are—are you ashamed? Is that it?"

"Ashamed that I love a woman who only wishes only to leave me?" Eomer said bitterly. "Aye, somewhat."

"You seem to know an awful lot about what I want and don't want," I huffed. "Not that you ever bothered to ask."

"You never made a secret of it," he snapped. "Do you know what I was thinking these past weeks? No? I was thinking that it was a shame that you'd lost the baby because then maybe you could have gone home and I could find a wife who would marry me and bear my children because she loved me and because she wanted to, not because she was forced to."

I tried to speak, but no sound would come out. I felt sick. He _was_ mad about the baby. And not even for the baby's sake, but because he wanted to get rid of _me_. I couldn't breathe. I whirled around and dashed past Robin Hood, who was clearly confused as to why his mistress kept running about this early in the morning. But he followed me faithfully, as always.

I found myself in the stables. I threw myself down in the fresh hay of Liadan's stall and sobbed inconsolably while Robin Hood licked my ear in what he clearly thought was a comforting way and Liadan blew softly into my hair. How could things have gone so horribly wrong? I'd been—well, frankly, I'd been thrilled when Eomer told me he loved me. And somewhat less than thrilled when he told me he was ashamed of it.

I was alerted to an intruder by Robin Hood's low growl. I looked up and saw Eomer, looking shamefaced and upset.

"Sky, could you please call your dog off?" he asked. "Tis somewhat difficult to apologize to someone with an angry dog snarling at you."

"You've just realized that you still have to live with me until I bear you a son, is that it?" I hiccuped. "Just leave me alone, Eomer. Robby's only trying to protect me. _He's_ not ashamed of loving me."

"I'm sorry," Eomer said desperately. "But you must admit that it's fairly awkward to proclaim your love to someone who you know doesn't feel the same way. Especially when that someone is your wife."

"Who says I don't feel the same way?" I cried, turning my face back into the straw. Robby abandoned snarling at Eomer and laid his head on my side."You fuckin' eejit, you could have waited for an answer before tearing my heart out with your bare hands!"

"Then—then you do love me?"

"Of course I do," I sobbed. "Only I didn't realize it until you'd gone and then I find out that you want me gone so you can find someone else—some flaxen haired beauty from Rohan--someone your own age--"

Suddenly I found myself held against a hard chest with warm, strong, familiar arms wrapped about me. Eomer pushed my hair out of my face and wiped away my tears, kissing each cheek softly. Then each eyelid, then my nose, then my lips. I kept my eyes closed, and my arms around his neck. I couldn't stop shaking.

"I'm sorry," he whispered raggedly. "I'm not ashamed, truly. Even if you didn't love me, I could never regret loving someone as brave and beautiful as you are. And if you want to go home, I'll understand. We don't have to wait for a son. I'll help you go home if that's what you want."

"No," I sniffed. "It hurt to give up my family, but it's done. I don't think I can give you up. And at some point—someday I will bear your children. Because I love you and because I want to."

For a long time he simply held me tightly and stroked my hair until my body stopped shaking. In the aftermath of that emotional thunderstorm, I felt the most wonderful sense of peace. For the first time, I felt like I was truly married, not just sharing a bed with a good friend. And it felt good. Perhaps Gandalf was right and I was destined to marry Eomer and save Eowyn's life. Destiny or not, I was happy with my lot. I was married to the man of my dreams—and what was more, a man I loved and who loved me in return.

If the stable hands thought it odd to find the King and Queen of Rohan sleeping propped up against the wall with a dog curled beside them and a horse standing guard, they never mentioned it to either of us. But then, they wouldn't, would they? Royals aren't real people, after all.


	11. Epilogue

"You know, I feel like there should be something more," I commented that night as we lay in bed. "Like...I don't know, a celebration or—"

"A wedding?" Eomer suggested with a grin.

"Exactly! But we're already married," I complained. "Aragorn and Arwen get this huge, romantic, flashy wedding to let the whole world know they're in love and Eowyn and Faramir will have theirs in a few months. What did we get? A horse, a dog, and a pile of fresh manure when we woke up."

The dog in question lifted his head from the foot of the bed, where I insisted he was allowed to sleep. He whimpered once and put his head back on his paws in a dejected sort of way.

"Oh, I love you Robby," I assured him. "But you're simply not romantic enough."

"When we go home, we'll have a wondrous feast in honor of the two Shieldmaidens of Rohan and Faramir and I can both declare our undying love," Eomer told me. "Would that do?"

"So long as you're declaring your undying love to _me_, not Faramir," I said. "Even if you weren't already married, I don't think Faramir would be half as fun in bed as I am. He's too shy."

"Sky!" Eomer looked like he wasn't sure whether to laugh or be horrified. Then he settled on the former. "You shouldn't be speaking of timidity, you know. Need I remind you of our wedding night? You looked like you would be sick right there."

"Well, you cured me of that soon enough," I said with a smile, and laid my head on his chest. "I'm going to miss Eowyn."

"So shall I," Eomer sighed. "I always knew she would get married eventually, but—it seems too soon."

"She is three years older than I am," I reminded him.

"Aye, well, you didn't exactly ask to get married, did you?"

"I'm glad I did, though," I murmured. "Did your parents choose each other or was their marriage arranged?"

"Oh, aye, they chose one another," Eomer said softly. "Theirs was a love match; a rare thing for nobility. My father was the First Marshall—a rank just high enough for a marriage to be permissible. They were lucky... and so are we."

"And so are Eowyn and Faramir, and Aragorn and Arwen," I added, then grimaced. "I can't believe I have to have new gowns made. I thought I would stab myself the last time I had gowns made for me. Why do Arwen and Eowyn have to be so tall?"

"Why do you have to be so short?" Eomer countered.

"I'm not that short," I huffed. "They're just unnaturally tall. It's not fair that Eowyn can borrow one and I have to have one made."

"Aye, life is unfair," Eomer murmured, hugging me closer. "I like you the way you are. Tall women remind me of my sister."

"It wouldn't do for you to be thinking of your sister while in bed, would it?" I agreed solemnly. "Can you imagine what _that _wedding night would have been like?"

"Sky!" Eomer squinched his eyes closed, no doubt blocking unwanted mental images. "Urgh. I'm going to sleep."

"Sweet dreams."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The day of Aragorn's wedding dawned bright and clear, as it had the day before for his coronation. I suppose it was fitting, since he apparently had a prophecy about him and everything. He looked—well, not like the Aragorn I knew. For one thing, he was clean-shaven. For another, he wore velvet and silk instead of leather and ringmail. Gone was the strangely regal Ranger. In his place was the King of Gondor. King Elessar with his elven queen, Arwen Evenstar. The ceremony was brief and solemn. At the end, although there was no kiss, I could hear Aragorn and Arwen singing softly to one another. I sighed and leaned back against Eomer's chest. It was just so—I'd say cute, but they were both too dignified and impressive for that.

The feast was even more impressive than the ceremony—and much less conservative. Merry and Pippin got right up on the table and started dancing to the lively music that had started up. Faramir officially proposed to Eowyn, who, to my shock, blushed prettily and dropped a demure curtsy of acceptance. Eomer gaped openly, mouth hanging open. I tapped it shut, whispering, "You're catching flies, milord."

"He's drugged her," he whispered back. "There is simply no other explanation."

"Shh," I admonished, stifling a laugh.

"You think I'm jesting? Just _look_ at her! Does that look like Eowyn to you? Perhaps she has a counterpart from your world..."

"Oh, hush," I said, not bothering to stifle the laugh this time.

Soon, the Skylark was commanded by the masses to sing. I decided to sing a Rohirric song I'd learned about a lass and her lover. To my surprise, Eomer joined in with a strong, warm bass. I hadn't known he could sing. I was even more surprised at the pride and love in his eyes as he sang with me. I grinned up at him when we finished.

"I didn't know you sang," I murmured when we finished.

"I didn't know you sang in Rohirric," he returned in a whisper.

We stayed in Minas Tirith for another week while the celebrations lasted. Eowyn and I spent much of our time with Arwen, who, for all her unearthly beauty and grace, was smart, fun, and wickedly funny. She could also shoot a bow and wield a sword, which endeared her to Eowyn. I also spent a considerable amount of time with the Princes of Dol Amroth. It quickly became clear that they really, truly were not my father and brothers and my heart was set at peace. They even promised to visit some time. I was glad, because I found that I would miss them—for their own sakes, not because they looked like my family.

When the time came, Eowyn and I bade Arwen farewell—Eowyn and Faramir would return with us to Rohan and be married there. And, as promised, Eowyn and I would have our feast. As we rode out of the city, I looked back only once and smiled. I felt a stirring of anticipation in my belly. Eomer saw my smile and grinned in return.

"Aye," he said softly. "We're going home."

"Home," I sighed. I thought of the rolling, windswept plain and the Golden Hall of Meduseld atop the hill. I thought of our bed and our stables and our city. Our kingdom. Laughing, I nudged Liadan with my heels and we raced ahead, toward home.

A/N: well, my ducks, this truly is the end. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews and I hope you enjoyed it. I plan on writing a fanfic on the Chronicles of the Cheysuli by Jennifer Roberson (unless she's on the list of don't's, in which case i'll write it and just not post it) if I do post it, it won't be for a while but I encourage you to read the books, because they're amazing. Well, good-bye and thanks again!

Shai


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